


Hunter Games

by Gabrielle16



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Crossover, Demons, Forbidden Love, M/M, Monsters, Purgatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-03 23:41:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10261685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabrielle16/pseuds/Gabrielle16
Summary: The man plunged his hand into the other container, shifting around the slips of paper. Finally, his hand rested on one, and he pulled his out."Sam Winchester,"There was a sharp intake of breath from everywhere. Many peoples' heads turned towards Dean. In fact, more people looked at him then at Sam, who had started towards the stage. All emotion left Dean's face. He stared blankly ahead. Of course. Of course this was happening. Dean blinked. Then he squared his jaw and started out towards the stage. The closer he got, the faster he moved."Dammit!" he yelled. "Get out of the way!" He started pushing people to the side. "Get the hell out of the way! Sam!"





	1. The Reaping

**Author's Note:**

> I'll update this everyday until it's done.  
> I hope you all enjoy it!

"Dean." Sammy's small voice woke Dean from his sleep. He was immediately awake. He got up on his elbows. 

"What's up, Sammy?" he asked gently, letting his 12-year-old brother up onto his bed. 

Sam curled up next to him. "It's reaping day."

Dean remembered. His face paled.  
Reaping day. Sam's first eligible reaping day. 

"Come here." Dean whispered. He wrapped his arms around Sam. Sam's dog tried to cuddle up next to him, but Dean pushed him away. 

"Dean?"

"Yeah Sam?"

"What happens if i get picked?"

"You won't," Dean said, a little unconvincingly. 

Their family had the worst luck.  
It started back 12 years ago. Sammy had just been born. And then their mom died in a house fire.  
Not only did they now not have a mom, but they also had to find a new house, which was next to impossible in District 10, even when they lived in Victor's Village.  
And their dad wasn't exactly a good parent after Mary had died. He was so anxious, on edge. He always had been since he won the Hunger Games, a couple years before he had met their mom. But these feelings were magnified 100x by her death.  
He'd hunt for food, though they didn't need it, probably because he liked killing things. He'd gotten so over-protective with Sam, and Dean had done the same. Sam was the small one, the one they kept safe. Dean was the mini-John, at least in John's eyes. He had treated him like an adult since he was 6. Which hadn't been easy. But Dean had learned to hunt, learned how to handle a gun, and a knife; how to defend himself. Sam had never learned that stuff. And no one but John knew what Dean had been taught.  
Then the Quarter Quell happened. The 75th. Previous Victors were reaped. And guess who got picked?  
John sent them to live with Bobby, another victor, and a friend, promising he would return. This was seven years ago.  
They were still with Bobby.  
So there was no certainty Sam wouldn't be reaped, and Dean was no believer in false hope. 

"C'mon, Sammy," Dean sighed, getting up. "Let's get dressed. You need to look pretty for the cameras,"

"Don't you need to get dressed too?" Sam asked, getting up off the bed. 

"Nah. I'm already stunning," Dean said, looking at his reflection in their mirror. 

Sam cracked a smile. 

Soon, the two of them were walking towards the square. Bobby, being a victor, had already left, so they were on their own. Dean gave Sam's hand a defining squeeze when they reached their destination. 

"The 12-year-olds are that way," Dean told him, pointing across the landscape. Sam took a deep breath and nodded. Dean gave him a side-ways grin and ruffled his hair. He then walked over to the line of 16-year-olds. When they pricked his finger, he hardly noticed. He was still staring over at Sam. Sam, to his credit, hadn't started crying like some of the other 12-year-olds had. He was a strong kid.  
Someone shoved Dean from behind, hitting him hard in the head. 

"Keep it moving, kid," the peacekeeper snapped.  
Dean hadn't realized he was standing still. Rubbing the knot he felt forming on the back of his head, he walked into the crowd.  
Now the past few years, the Capitol representatives were bright-haired, loud-mouthed, outrageously-dressed lunatics with crazy accents and an insensitive demeanor. So Dean was a bit surprised when an average-looking man stepped out onto to stage. He smiled a big smile. 'There it is.' Dean thought. 

"Happy Hunger Games," he said, his voice a little high. "And may the odds be EVER in you favor." 

Dean was still puzzled by his appearance. He had short brown hair and about 0 make-up, and he was dressed similarly to himself and Sam. 

"And now a word from our president," he grinned, interrupting Dean's thoughts.  
The video started playing and Dean sighed. He had practically memorized this thing. Every year, the same friggin video. He tapped his knee impatiently.  
Rebellion, 13 NO WAIT 12 districts, hunger games, reminder: don't cross the Capitol, your lord and king, president Metatron. 

"Alright," the man said as the video ended. "As the tradition goes, ladies first." He stuck her hand into one of the glass jars, and moved it around for a tantalizing minute, before pulling out a slip of paper. 

"Joanna Harvelle?" he called. 

Dean's heart sank. Not Jo. She walked slowly towards the stage, small and frail, but determined. When she reached the stage the man asked for volunteers. Nothing could be heard but the wind. Dean stomped his foot in frustration. The girl was only twelve, dammit. Sam's age, maybe a little younger. And not a single one of the older girls had a problem with sending this child to her death? Dean was disgusted. He glanced back at her mom. She looked heartbroken. He almost forgot a boy still had to be picked.  
The man plunged his hand into the other container, shifting around the slips of paper. Finally, his hand rested on one, and he pulled his out. 

"Sam Winchester,"

There was a sharp intake of breath from everywhere. Many peoples' heads turned towards Dean. In fact, more people looked at him then at Sam, who had started towards the stage. All emotion left Dean's face. He stared blankly ahead. Of course. Of course this was happening. Dean blinked. Then he squared his jaw and started out towards the stage. The closer he got, the faster he moved. 

"Dammit!" he yelled. "Get out of the way!" He started pushing people to the side. "Get the hell out of the way! Sam!"

Sam was halfway up the steps when he heard him. He stopped and turned around. "Dean?" 

Dean had gotten out of the crowd and was headed towards the stage. Two peacekeepers grabbed his arms. 

"Get off me, you son of a bitch!" Dean said, struggling. "Sam! Sammy, get off that stage."

"Young man," the Capitol man said. "This boy cannot-"

"Obviously i am volunteering," he said, his voice dead, his face blank.  
The whole square was silent, but no one was surprised.  
Except the man on the stage. 

"What?" He was laughing nervously at the amount of fury in Dean's eyes. 

"Are you deaf?" Dean asked. 

"Well...no." He seemed quite flustered. 

"Good." Dean marched over to the steps.  
Sam stood in front of him. 

"Sam get out of the way," he said his voice steely. 

"Dean don't do this," Sam pleaded. 

"Sammy. Get. Out. Of. The. Way."

Some peacekeepers were advancing towards him. 

"Dean-" Sam started desperately. 

"Sammy, i mean it."

Sam looked hopelessly from the peacekeepers to Dean, before nodding and going back to the 12-year-olds.  
Dean squared his jaw and walked onto the stage, standing to the Capitol man. 

"So these are your tributes," he said brightly, attempting to lessen the tension. It didn't really work. Jo still looked scared, but she was doing her best to imitate Dean's stoic-ness. Though Dean was not moving or smiling, no one mistook it for cowardice. He stood tall and firm, not slouching or sniveling. Though his face was blank, there was murder behind his eyes, and everyone knew it. 

"Let's give our tributes from district 10 a warm 'good luck'. The man started clapping, but he was the only one.  
Everyone stared up at the two people on the stage; the scared 12-year-old who was likely to die and the silent 16-year-old who had just sacrificed everything for his younger brother. And no one clapped.  
Jo looked gratefully out at the silent audience, but Dean's expression stayed the same. 

"Okay!" the man said hurriedly. "Let's go, you two!" 

He grabbed Dean's and Jo's shoulders, but Dean immediately pushed his hand off. He marched into the building by himself, leaving Jo and the man still on stage. 

"Happy 82nd!" he called sighing, but attempting to be optimistic. "And may the odds be EVER in your favor!"

When he and Jo walked into the building, Dean was standing there arms crossed, face still blank. 

"Which room is mine?" he asked shortly. 

"Well, now you both have an hour to t-"

"Yeah, yeah you get conference hours with your beloveds," Dean finished exasperatedly. "I know the drill. So which room is mine?" he asked again.

"Last door on the right," he said, trying to ignore Dean's rudeness. 

Dean blinked once before spinning on his heels and walking down the hall.


	2. To the Capitol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No. Sam, do not talk like that. Do you really think i'd leave you here all by yourself, with no one but the cows?" Dean smiled. "I'll be back before you know it."

It was barely 10 minutes before Sam showed, barging in through the door. 

"Sam." Dean stood up, the steely expression melting from his face. The two of them hugged for a long time. 

"Sammy." Dean knelt down and put his hands on Sam's shoulders. "I need you to listen to me." Sam nodded. "Go stay with Ellen. With... With Jo leaving too, she'll want someone with her. And with Bobby being the only victor..." Sam nodded again. "You help her out." He grinned, ruffling Sam's hair. "Don't be lazy okay?"

Sam smiled, but it didn't last long. "Okay, Dean."

"Hey." Dean pulled him into another hug. Then he gave him a sideways smile. "I'll be right back,"

"Dean," Sam said suddenly. 

"Yeah, Sam?"

"I almost forgot. I..." He pulled a package wrapped in newspaper out of his moth-eaten jacket. "You can bring something from your district, right?" Held out the package. "This is for you. Bobby gave it to me."

Dean took the package and opened it slowly. Inside was a necklace; an amulet, on a leather cord. Dean smiled. 

"Thanks, Sammy." Dean smiled softly. "I love it,"

"I've been meaning to give it to you for a while," Sam mumbled. "I thought now, maybe, since you might not b-"

"No. Sam, do not talk like that. Do you really think i'd leave you here all by yourself, with no one but the cows?" Dean smiled. "I'll be back before you know it."

Sam smiled hopefully. 

"Time's up," a peacekeeper said rudely, throwing open the door. 

Dean had resumed his expressionless face. "Good luck Sam," he said. 

"You too Dean," Sam sighed walking slowly out. 

And Dean was alone again. He was worried, and a bit sad, but more than anything, he was angry. Angry at the Capitol for hosting the Games, angry at Metatron for continuing them, angry at fate for picking Sam. And there was all sorts of new security after the near-rebellion the last two years. That included shorter visiting time.   
In the last five minutes, Dean got another visiter. 

"Ellen?" Jo's mom. 

"Come here, Dean." She gave him a hug. 

Dean bit the inside of his cheek. Ellen and Jo had always been like family to him. 

"It's going to be okay, Dean," she attempted. 

He almost laughed. "Right. I'm not going to an arena where 23 other kids are going to be trying to kill me for the amusement of the country." Dean turned and sat back on the chair by the window.   
"22," Ellen said softly. 

"What?"

"Not 23 people trying to kill you. 22 at most."

Dean mentally face-palmed. "Right. Right, i'm sorry. She's like my sister. I'd...i'd never kill her either."

Ellen pursed her lips.

"What?" Dean asked. 

"I think...i think you'll do whatever you need to to get back to your brother." She told him. "Even if that means-"

"No," Dean interrupted. "I'm not... I couldn't... I would never..." 

Neither of them said anything for a minute. 

"So you're not worried about her?"

"Not as much as people think," she admitted. "People underestimate her. That sure as hell don't mean i'm not worried,"

"Of course not,"

"You don't suppose you could pull a Katniss and get you both back?"

Dean looked at his shoes. "I doubt it," he said quietly. They hadn't had a love story subplot in the seven years since. 

"Time," a peacekeeper said.   
"Good luck Dean," Ellen said getting up. 

"You too, Ellen."

The door slammed closed and Dean was alone. He punched a wall.   
Then the door was opened. 

"Alright, buck-o," the Capitol guy said. "Train's here,"

"Cameras?" Dean asked wearily. 

"Only about 600." He nodded apologetically. 

"Awesome," Dean sighed, putting back on his blank face. 

When he reached the platform, Jo was already there. As were about 7 million other people. 

"Dean!"

"It's Dean!"

"Dean could i get a word?"

"Dean!"

"Dean i'm from the-"

"Tell me about your younger brother, Sam, what went through your head-"

"Dean, over here!"

"Keep walkin' buck-o," the capitol guy whispered. 

Dean didn't need to be told twice. He pushed past the paparazzi, without saying a word to anyone. Jo, on the other hand, was a real people-pleaser. She talked to just about everyone until people came out of the train, looking for her. By the time she boarded, Dean had already locked himself in his room, and was lying on his soft Capitol bed. Too soft. He rolled off of it and lay one the cool train floor. He didn't want to see anyone. To talk to anyone. So when someone knocked on the door, he ignored them.   
Then they giggled the doorknob. 

"Leave me alone!" Dean yelled. 

"Open up, boy," a gruff voice yelled. 

Relief filled Dean's eyes. He ran over and threw open the door. 

"Bobby," he exclaimed gratefully.   
The two of them hugged. 

"This is quite a mess you've gotten yourself into," Bobby told him. 

"What do i do, Bobby?" he asked. 

"I'll tell you what you're gonna do. You're going to get in there. You're gonna train like hell. And you're going to get your ass back to me and your brother."

Dean squared his jaw. "Of course i am."

Bobby smiled sadly. "That's a good boy."

Dean almost laughed. He was about to enter an arena where the only way to get out would be by killing other children. Nothing about that screamed 'good boy' to him.

"Why don't you join Jo and Gabe and i for some grub." 

"Gabe?"

"Gabriel. Our Capitol guy. You're lucky. Some of 'em are crazy." Then he walked off down the hallway. Dean took a deep breath before following him. 

In the dining car, the tv was already on. Jo and Gabriel were at the table, while Bobby poured himself a cup of beer. 

"Dean!" Jo smiled when she saw him. "Gabriel and i were just starting to watch the other reapings."

Dean nodded silently and sat down opposite her, as Gabriel pressed the play button and popped a handful of candy in his mouth. It started with the highest districts-the demons, Dean called them. Districts 1-4. Hell They usually formed alliances. Were vicious, merciless, deadly, soulless. Dean found the name very fitting. After them would come Districts 5-8: purgatory, home of the monsters. These guys weren't trained as hard, but they were nearly just as deadly. Their kills weren't ever as organized as the demons, and they were a lot dumber. Most of them enjoyed coming down to Dean's district, which specialized in livestock, and would randomly mutilate their cows. He guessed it was the only thing they did in their free time. Caused a hell of a lot of trouble for them when it came time to trade their goods and such.   
And then there were the lower districts. Earth. Humans. Not nearly as good as the upper districts. Died a lot faster. A lot more squeamish. Unprepared. Weak. And Dean was one of them.   
And now he, a lowly human, was on his way to heaven. Where the angels lived. Not that they were nice or loving: most of them were dicks. But they were all powerful. Basically ruled all the other districts. Never got their hands dirty. Dean hated them.   
He had never shared these labels with anyone but Sam, though now maybe the perfect time.   
The first Demon to be reaped was a 17-year-old brunette wearing these weird red contacts. Dean would never understand fashion. But, surprisingly, a 12-year-old blonde wearing a frilly pink dress volunteered. Her name was Lilith.   
The boy from 1 was named Crowley. He was wearing an all black suit, and looked sharp for an 18-year-old. Dean immediately knew he would never trust that guy.   
Moving on to District 2, the chick was a brunette with a round face, age 15, named Meg. The guy was her brother, which was unfortunate for that family.   
District 3: scary looking redhead named Abaddon, and a guy about 17, named Alistair. He looked like he might be a problem as well.   
And to complete hell, they ended with the fourth group of demons, starting with a girl with long black her named Ruby, and a guy who's name Dean missed, but he looked like he'd probably die pretty quickly. Either no one had wanted to go in the games (unusual for a hell district) or, more likely, everyone really hated the guy.   
Slowly they moved on to purgatory. By then, Dean was only remembering flashes.   
In 5, there was a girl named Tessa.   
Eve from 6.   
Dick and Amy from 7.   
A guy named Benny volunteered and a girl 13-year-old named Kate from 8.   
Then onto earth.   
From 9, there was a 15-year-old named Bela.   
11 had a girl with long flowing red hair named Charlene.   
In 12 there was a guy named Gordon and a girl named Becky.   
And then it was done. Dean stared at the dark screen. 

"So," Bobby set his glass heavily on the table. "What are you two thinking?"

Dean kept his mouth shut. Jo seemed lost. 

"Good answers," Bobby said. "Don't make any assumptions until you actually know them,"

"'Kay. Good talk," Dean made a move to get up. 

Bobby pushed him back down. "No you don't, boy," he ordered. "We're only five minutes away. We still need to talk strategy,"

"I have one," Dean said. He did. He'd been thinking about it since they got on the train. "And i'm sure Jo doesn't want to share her's in front of me," he trailed off. The Capitol was suddenly in view.   
Dean walked over and pressed his palms against the window. 

"Heaven," he whispered despite himself. "Home of the angels." 

Soon, Jo was standing next to him. 

"My god, it's beautiful," she breathed. 

It really was. All the buildings were so brightly colored, almost touching the vibrant blue sky. 

"And half the people in our district are starving," Dean said in disgust, pushing himself away. 

"Dean," Bobby sighed sadly. 

Then, the train rolled into the station. They had made it to the Capitol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, that's chapter two.   
> Hope you enjoyed it!


	3. The Parade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're a bit young for a Game Maker," Dean said as Cas started to leave.
> 
> "I suppose i am," he said ruefully. 
> 
> Dean wanted to be disgusted or appalled, but he found he couldn't. 
> 
> "How old are you?" he asked. 
> 
> "18," Cas told him. 
> 
> "Really, only 18?" Dean tried to hide his relief. 
> 
> "Yes. It's my first year as a Game Maker. They wanted some young blood, i guess,"
> 
> "Oh, congratulations, i guess,"
> 
> Cas smiled bitterly. "It's a huge honor."

Angels swarmed the platform. 

"We're here ya idgit," Bobby said to Dean, who was sulking. "Put your game face on."

Not likely. 

Jo walked confidently out first instantly mingling with the crowd, becoming a favorite. Gabriel followed her, waving and blowing kisses, then Bobby, surly as ever. Then came Dean. His shoulders were hunched forward, he was shuffling his feet. His hands were clenched in fists, his knuckles white. He looked terrified. Bobby glanced back at him, confused, but didn't say anything, thankfully. He shrunk away from reporters. He kept his head down and said nothing. Then they went to a building where they were separated from Bobby and Gabriel. And then Dean and Jo separated and went to their stylists. A group of excited looking angels eagerly gathered around Dean and tried to start brushing his hair and putting make up on him but he stopped them almost immediately. 

"No. No way," he ordered. "If you so much as touch me with one of your damn brushes i will snap them in half."

The girl, Rachel, looked hurt, but Dean found that he didn't really care. 

"But we need to have you prepped for Balthazar," one of them protested. 

"Baltha-who?"

"Baltha-me," a foreign voice said from behind Dean. 

He spun around and was face-to-face with a tall, blonde angel in a black jacket and white shirt. 

"Don't worry, you three," he told the other angels. "I think this boy has enough to work with as-is,"

"What am i, a sculpture?" Dean asked indignantly. 

"No, of course not. Sculptures are silent," Balthazar explained. 

Dean narrowed his eyes. 

"Now Dean," Balthazar pulled him away from the other angels and started leading him down a long hallway, "for each opening ceremony, the tributes ride in together, each dressed like something representing their district,"

"So, what, am i going to be dressed up like a friggin cow?" Dean asked. 

Balthazar laughed. "No. I was thinking something more flashy,"

"Flashy."

"Absolutely. We need you to be noticeable,"

"Noticeable."

"Glad you're keeping up,"

"What...what do you mean Flashy?" 

"I worked closely with Heather, your girl's stylist, and we came up with-" he pulled a suit out of the closet behind him. 

Dean groaned inwardly.

"-this."

The outfit was horrid. A shiny mess of brown, green and gold. 

"What the hell is that," Dean said. Balthazar's eyebrows furrowed.   
"I'll look like a damn sunflower!"

"Well would you rather i get you a cow costume?" Balthazar asked irritably. 

Dean just glared. 

"The colors fit your district perfectly. If you want to be noticed, i'd put this on." 

'But i don't want to be noticed' Dean thought. 

He slipped the horrid outfit on and modeled it awkwardly for Balthazar, who inspected it carefully. He then noticed the amulet on Dean's neck.

"Where did you get this?" he asked. 

"My brother gave it to me," Dean said defensively. 

"I don't doubt it," Balthazar said quickly. "But did it go through inspection?" 

"Uh...no,"

"They could confiscate it if they didn't know what it was," he explained. 

"Well then call someone who can inspect it, or whatever, 'cause i'd rather keep this,"

"Of course. UN-INSPECTED ITEM!" he yelled to seemingly no one. 

"Hello, Dean," came a voice from behind him. 

Dean spun around to see an angel in a tan trench coat and a messed up blue tie, with messy dark hair and brilliant blue eyes. 

"Who are you?" Dean asked

"I am Castiel," he said, not taking his eyes off if Dean. Dean stared back.   
After a minute, Balthazar cleared his throat. 

"Dean, Cassie here is a Game Maker. He'll be able to inspect your necklace," he told him. 

"Right ok," he said, blinking rapidly. "Don't...lose it." He slowly took off the necklace and handed it to Castiel.

He smiled slightly. "I won't Dean,"

"You're a bit young for a Game Maker," Dean said as Cas started to leave.

"I suppose i am," he said ruefully. 

Dean wanted to be disgusted or appalled, but he found he couldn't. 

"How old are you?" he asked. 

"18," Cas told him. 

"Really, only 18?" Dean tried to hide his relief. 

"Yes. It's my first year as a Game Maker. They wanted some young blood, i guess,"

"Oh, congratulations, i guess,"

Cas smiled bitterly. "It's a huge honor."

Balthazar cleared his throat. "Cassie, could i get back to my job please?" he asked. 

"Of course." Cas nodded respectfully. "I'll get you're necklace back as soon as i can," he said to Dean. 

Then he left. Balthazar was smirking at Dean when he turned back. 

"Shut up," Dean grumbled. 

"Well," Balthazar hastily changed the subject. "We should probably touch up your-"

"No. Absolutely not," Dean shut him down. "There's no way i'm putting any make-up on. At all,"

"Dean-"

"No,"

"Fine. Your funeral. Oh wait." 

Dean glared at him. 

"Well i guess you should get put there and...mingle or something." 

Balthazar ushered Dean to the door and closed it firmly behind him. Dean was faced by a congregation of humans, demons and monster alike. He smirked to himself before attaining a nervous expression and stance. He shrunk against the wall and tried to hide his face in his jacket. First impressions were everything. Just as he suspected, he was immediately, a group of glitter-clad demons approached him. Dean grimaced internally. He HATED glitter. It was the only reason he was REMOTELY okay with his "outfit".

"Hey there, champ," Crowley grinned, leaning against the wall next to him. 

"Dean right?" Said one in silver who Dean remembered as Alistair. He had a bit of a lisp, but that made him no less menacing.   
Dean nodded shortly, not making eye contact, and shrinking away from his outstretched hand. 

The brunette girl, Meg, laughed. "What's the matter Dean?" she asked, her voice giving way to a somewhat southern drawl. "Not afraid of a couple of careers, are we?" she asked over sympathetically. 

Dean didn't say anything. He was too busy observing. He noticed, for instance, that the Ruby chick from 3 was not part of their little posse. Usually the demons stuck together until they were the only ones left, so Dean found this strange. 

"I asked you a question!"   
Dean felt someone's fist slam into his gut. He doubled over and the demons laughed. Clearly there were no supervisors anywhere near. Harming other tributes before the games was illegal. But the demons didn't seem to care about that.   
It took all Dean had not to punch Abaddon back, but that would have ruined everything. So he refrained, and pasted himself to the wall, staring at her with a terrified expression. 

She smiled. "I SAID is that really what you're going to wear?" she asked. "It's horrid, even from a 10's point of view."

Dean nodded again. 

"Where's your stylist from? 12?" She laughed. The others laughed with her. Even the creepy blonde 12-year-old. 

'Where's your stylist from?' Dean thought. 'Jupiter? You look like a friggin' alien.'   
He just put his head down. 

"So you put on a good show back in 10," Crowley concluded. "Tell me, does your brother know how much of a wimp you actually are?"

Luckily for Dean's facade and Crowley's face, stylists started filing out with the last of the tributes and everyone began to get on their chariots. Dean allowed himself a moment to punch the wall before getting up after Jo.   
She looked gorgeous. She too was just wearing brown, green and gold. But they had made it look good; it didn't look tacky or stupid. She looked like a model. And they had done her hair and put makeup on. Expertly. 

"You look good, Jo." He grinned at her. 

She blushed a deep scarlet. "You too Dean,"

"This is the worst thing i've ever worn," he said turning towards the doors. 

She said nothing, but her blush ran a little deeper. Then their chariot started rolling.   
Dean's face went pale and he clutched the rim of the cart until his knuckles were white. He started breathing deeply and he put his head against his chest. 

"Dean?" Jo asked worriedly, startled at his sudden change. 

"Smile and wave," he instructed her. "Forget me."

She looked concerned but as soon as they were in the sunlight, she adopted a bright smile and wove at the audience, blowing kisses and accepting thrown roses. She was radiant. The crowd adored her.   
Dean on the other hand didn't move. He pretended like the audience unnerved the crap out of him and stared at his feet the whole time. Soon they had reached the end and were facing President Metatron. Dean finally glanced up to look at him. Jo noticed his face and put her hand on his shoulder. He almost pushed it off, but then thought better of it.   
This was the first time Dean and ever seen Mr. P. in person, and the first thing that struck him was how short he actually was. On whole, he was a very average looking dude. But certain people and angels alike seemed to adore him. 

"Welcome," he said loudly. The crowd was almost silent, "Citizens, Viewers, Tributes." He winked at them. Dean was disgusted, "to the 82nd annual Hunger Games!"

It was pandemonium. People yelled and screamed and what Dean thought was the most expected sentence anyone could have said right about now. All of the tributes stood proud and tall grinning at the crowd. Even those who were clearly terrified, like the boy from 9, were trying. But not Dean. And the best part? Everyone noticed. Everyone could see that he wasn't looking around, that he was terrified. He smiled, knowing no one could see his face.   
The rest of the evening passed by in a bit of a blur. Monsters and Demons picking on him, Jo trying to comfort him, screams from the crowd, Metatron's voice making speeches.   
Nothing worth remembering.

Soon he and Jo were in the fancy glass elevator, riding up to the tenth floor.   
As soon as they got off in their fancy penthouse, someone smacked Dean's head. 

"Dean! What was that?" Bobby yelled.

"God, Bobby!" Dean yelled back, swatting his hand away, rubbing his head. 

"Gabe, show Jo to her room," Bobby snapped. 

"It's Gabriel,"

"It could be Clara for all i care, i need some time alone with Dean," Bobby said. 

Gabriel huffed, but led Jo out of the room. Then Bobby grabbed Dean's ear and dragged him across the room. 

"Ow. Ow! OwowowowBobby!" Dean yelled as Bobby threw him onto the couch. 

"What the hell were you thinking, boy?!" he yelled. "How do you expect to get sponsors, acting like that?!"

"Bobby i know what i'm doing!" he exclaimed. 

"Damn right. You're not the one who's been down this road before! I have. And that was a dumbass thing to do!"

"Bobby, i have a plan!"

"Well then it's a dumb one."

Dean pursed his lips. "Bobby i'm getting out of here as soon as i possibly can. I'm getting back to Sam. I know what i'm doing, so don't try to stop me,"

"Dean i'm trying to-"

Dean walked off and slammed the door to what he figured was his room. 

"-help you," Bobby sighed. 

Dean ripped of the horrid suit and threw himself onto his bed. Who was Bobby to say what he was going to do. He was the one going to these games. Not Bobby.   
Somehow, he managed to drop of to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Castiel!   
> Hope you like it.   
> Thank you so much for all of your comments!


	4. Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He aimed his knife at the edge of the target and threw. Exactly where he wanted. He looked crestfallen. He got more and more "frustrated" with each "bad" throw. He could hear the demons laughing at him. He turned back to glance at them, horrified. That made them laugh harder. He turned back, smirking to himself. 
> 
> "God, you suck," Ruby laughed. 
> 
> Dean jumped at the sound of her voice.
> 
> "You're jumpy," she commented. "I don't mean to be insensitive, but you're going to die in that arena." She hung up her knife and walked off. 
> 
> Little bitch.

When Dean woke up, a sleek training outfit was laid out for him. He sighed and lay back down. These heavenly clothes were the worst. Where was the flannel?  
Dean put it on, simply because he didn't have anything else to wear, and then walked out to the breakfast table. Bobby, Jo and Gabriel were already there, along with Balthazar and a girl who Dean assumed was Heather. Dean didn't say anything as he sat down next to Jo and grabbed a plate. Everyone else a seemed to be mirroring his silence.   
Until,

"Training today, you two," Bobby told them. "You'll train for about a week, and then interviews and then..." he trailed off. "But training is arguably the most important pre-game activity you'll do. Not only do you get to practice fighting and survival skills, but it's also the best time to make allies. Which," he continued in response to Dean's sigh. "Is important for survival. But if you don't want to make allies it is a good time to get to know folk, at least,"

"Awesome," Dean said, whipping his mouth with his sleeve. 

Heather was scandalized. 

"When does this thing start?"

"Everyone's gotta be down their by 9-"

Dean glanced at the clock. 826. "Great. I'll go now. Catch you later." He got up and walked out of the room, his breakfast only half finished. 

"Is he always like that?" Heather asked. 

Bobby pursed his lips and nodded. "That idgit's gonna get himself killed before the games start." 

Jo sunk into her chair. 

"Any idea what happened yesterday in the opening ceremony?" Gabriel asked. Balthazar nodded, seconding the question. 

"Nope." Bobby shook his head. "Stormed off before i could get it out of him,"

"It's strange," Balthazar commented. "He seems like such a fearless kid,"

"He's a cocky son of a bitch," Bobby agreed. "I just hope he really does know what he's doing."  
-  
Dean walked by himself into the practice room at exactly 837. He wasn't surprised to see that he was not the first person there. That group of demons had already arrived as well as a couple of monsters. Dean noticed immediately the lack of humans. 

"Dean!" Lilith noticed that he had arrived and rushed over, hugging him around the waist.   
Dean had to rapidly change his disgust to fear. 

"Dean!" Crowley said amiably, the rest of the demons trailing after him. "So good to see you."

Dean was to busy staring down at Lilith to acknowledge him. 

"Lilith darling," Crowley said, "let the squirrel go."

Squirrel?

"How was your night, Dean?" Meg asked. "I must say we were all impressed by your, uh, performance at the opening ceremony."  
Dean just sort of stared at her while they laughed. 

"You can answer, Dean," Alistair said. 

They started advancing towards him slowly, and he stared backing up just as slowly. 

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" 

'This will all be worth it when i stab them through the chest' Dean repeated to himself as he felt his back press up against the wall. 

"Hey," a new, soft voice said. A tall muscular blonde walked over and stood between Dean and the demons. "There'll be plenty of time for this in the arena. Go pick on someone with your own ego." 

The demons glared at him, but he glared just as strongly back. Then they gave up. 

"You'll be the first we kill," Crowley threatened as they walked off.   
"I'd like to see you try,"  
he replied. Then he turned around. "Dean, right?"

"Yeah," Dean said, shaking his hand. "You?"

"Benny."

Dean remembered him. He was the boy from 8. 

"Thanks for saving my ass back there, Benny," Dean said.   
Benny raised an eyebrow.   
Dean cursed, realizing what he had just said. 

Benny just laughed. "I take it you're not as afraid as you lead everyone to believe,"

"If you tell anyone, i swear-"

"Don't worry," Benny assured him. "You're secret's safe with me, brother. Now take that glare of your face, before someone else notices."

Dean smiled. Then he assumed his nervous disposition. 

It was Benny's turn to smile. "Common, it's almost 9,"

Dean nodded and the two of them walked over to the group. Jo locked eyes with Dean and smiled.  
"Welcome to training," said a preppy, blonde angel girl. "You'll be spending a lot of time here so i'll tell you basics. There are lots of stations, all dealing with survival; some weapons and fighting, others things like identifying poisonous foods or finding shelter. Each station we'll be monitored by one of my colleagues. And NO wounding each other. At all. Now have fun."

The tributes scattered.   
"What are you gonna do brother?" Benny asked him. 

"I don't know," Dean said, noting the demons listening in on their conversation. "I'm not really good at anything,"

"I bet that's not true," Benny said. 

"No i mean it," Dean said, eyes darting towards the group of demons.

"Well then i don't want you holding me back," he said, understanding. "I'll catch you later, Dean." He winked and walked off to the swords. 

Dean let out a puff of breath and stood alone in the middle of the room, looking lost. 

"Hey, Winchester!" a voice called. 

Dean spun around. It was the redhead from 11. Charlene.   
He walked over to her slowly. 

"Charlene right?" he asked softly. 

"Charlie, actually. Charlie Bradbury," Charlie corrected him. "And you're Dean Winchester. The kid who volunteered for his little bro," she said matter-of-factly.   
"Uh, yeah." He laughed nervously. "That's me,"

"Well then. Do you want to show me the ropes?" she grinned. 

Dean looked at her confused, before glancing down.   
They were at the rope tying station. 

He sighed. 

"Sorry that was really bad, wasn't it?"

Dean nodded.   
The two of them grabbed some ropes and started practicing with sole nots. 

"So Dean, what do you do for fun?"

"F- fun?" he stammered. 

"Yeah. Fun," he repeated. When Dean didn't say anything Charlie raised her eyebrows. "Are you telling me you never stop working with those cows?" 

"Well, i mea-"

"I found a box in my basement," she whispered to him. "Filled with these old movies that my mom saved from her grandma. Great stuff. You ever heard of Star Wars? Harry Potter?"

Dean's eyes widened. He smiled, nodding.

It was Charlie's turn to be surprised. "No way! Really?!" 

"I didn't think anyone else had," he admitted. 

"Well most people haven't," she said. 

They spent the next half-hour geeking out instead of tying knots. Dean was the closest thing to a Star Wars master Charlie had ever met, but he hadn't really seen much Harry Potter. He got an in-depth analysis of every movie, which had been books before, apparently. 

"Well i should probably move on," Dean said apologetically. 

Charlie grinned. "Yeah me too. Though i doubt i'll find anyone else so knowledgable about Star Wars. Kudos to you."

Dean grinned as Charlie went off.   
He looked around trying to decide where to go next. He could already handle a bow and a knife and a sword and make traps and such, but he didn't really want the others to know that. Though if he misled them...  
Dean walked over to the knives and picked one up that he knew was too small for him. 

"You sure you want that one?"   
Dean spun around. It was the dark haired demon, Ruby. 

"Uh n-, no?" he stammered. 

"You might want this one," she laughed, handing him a slightly bigger one.

Upon taking it, Dean could tell she knew a thing or two about knives.   
"Thanks," he mumbled. 

She went back to her target as Dean took to his own. He could tell that the other demons were watching his progress, evaluating his skills, or just to laugh at him, Dean didn't know. But he'd give them the latter.   
He aimed his knife at the edge of the target and threw. Exactly where he wanted. He looked crestfallen. He got more and more "frustrated" with each "bad" throw. He could hear the demons laughing at him. He turned back to glance at them, horrified. That made them laugh harder. He turned back, smirking to himself. 

"God, you suck," Ruby laughed. 

Dean jumped at the sound of her voice.

"You're jumpy," she commented. "I don't mean to be insensitive, but you're going to die in that arena." She hung up her knife and walked off. 

Little bitch. 

"Dean!" Crowley called. 

Dean turned around slowly. He really didn't want to deal with these hell-spawns right now.  
"That was some brilliant knife-throwing skills you got, i'm honestly impressed." He looked at the knives sticking out of the floor by the target. "A+."

Dean's eyes flitted to his toes as Crowley winked and walked away, followed by the rest of them.   
Dean stomped his foot frustratedly. This was going to be difficult. He wanted nothing more then to punch that dick across the face. Dean grabbed a knife and threw it angrily at the center of the target. 

Bullseye. 

He returned to his floor that night very pleased with his progress. Most of them thought he was a failure, and he hadn't punched anyone. Day one: success! Still a lot more to go, though.   
Jo did most of the talking during dinner. Lucky for him, she hadn't seen much of his "training", so Bobby couldn't get mad at him again. He went to bed without saying more than a few words all evening.   
However, he couldn't sleep. He lay awake for hours, thoughts swirling around in his head. Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore. When he was sure everyone was asleep, he slipped out of his room and went out onto the balcony for some fresh air. He was sure it wasn't as nice as rooftop-12's terrace, but it would have to do. He was only standing out there for a few minutes before the door behind him opened. 

"We understand that this is a beautiful city," a monotone, yet familiar voice said, "however with a full day of training tomorrow, it is recommended that-"

Dean turned around. "Well maybe i just- Cas?" he stopped. 

"Dean." Cas clearly hadn't realized who's balcony he was on. "Hello,"

"When did that become a protocol thing?" Dean asked. 

Cas looked around uneasily. "The... 74th tributes spent a lot of time outside before the Games," he said uncertainly. 

"You mean Katniss and Peeta," Dean repeated, ignoring Cas' cringing. "I can't be on this goddamn balcony because two rebels sat on a different balcony seven years ago. That makes since. Why don't you ban eating meals. Hey, might as well throw training away too, they did that, didn't they?" 

"I'm sorry, Dean." Cas looked at his shiny black shoes. 

Dean's frown softened. "It's not your fault, Cas. Sorry i shouldn't have... This whole thing is just...frustrating, i guess,"

"I know. Dean, i wish you didn't have to do this." 

Dean's eyes widened. That was not something he expected a Game Maker to say. "You mean, go inside instead of staying on the balcony or...?"

"All of it," he admitted. "This isn't fair, to you, to any of the tributes. Metatron is a tyrant who-" he stopped suddenly. His eyes were wide with fear and immediate regret. "I shouldn't have said that."

Dean laughed. Cas wasn't like anyone else he'd ever met.   
A smile crept onto his face as Dean continued to laugh. "You're okay, Cas." Dean grinned. 

Cas stood up, seemingly unable to stop smiling. "Dean, i will make sure you are allowed on this balcony when ever you like," he promised. 

"Cas, you really don't-"

"And," he continued softer, "if...if you ever want someone to talk to, just... just say my name. I will hear you."

Then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing a couple more tribute.   
> Thanks for reading!


	5. The Scores

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What is it, boy?" Bobby asked him. 
> 
> "You should have seen their faces," he laughed. 
> 
> "Were they impressed?" Gabriel asked. 
> 
> Dean laughed harder. 
> 
> "Dean what did you do?" Bobby asked. 
> 
> "I just threw some knives." Dean grinned. 
> 
> "Well how did you do?" 
> 
> "We'll find out tonight." He smiled. He started laughing again as he walked to his room.

Days like this went on for a while. Dean "training", meeting new people, getting "pushed around" by demons. Slowly but surely, Dean started picking out the special skills of some of the other tributes. Charlie was brilliant with technology, though Dean wasn't sure how that would help. Bela, from 9, was the best pickpocket Dean had ever seen. Dick from 7 was adept at camouflage, but he could kick ass if he felt like it. That kid Gordon, from 12, had this fetish for chopping off people's heads. The demons could use almost any weapon to kill efficiently. 

And, of course, he saw Cas almost every evening. As much as Dean didn't understand it, he felt better when he was around. More calm. More strong. He'd even explained what he was doing and had asked Cas for tips. He had been extremely helpful, especially when it came to scoring, which Cas would help determine.   
These days went on for a while but not nearly long enough. Before he knew it, it was time to be scored by the Game Makers. Even with Cas' tips, he was nervous it wouldn't be believable. 

"The scores aren't the most important part of the game," Bobby had told them. "Just do your best."

They went in order of district, boys then girls. So after the girl Bela disappeared, it was Dean's turn. He took a deep breath. 

"Good luck," Jo called. 

"Yeah, you too," he said. He followed the peacekeepers through a long hallway and into a large gym-like area. Up in a box, he saw the game-makers, eating food, drinking wine, the works. He also saw Cas, who smiled reassuringly. 

"Uh, Dean Winchester, District 10," Dean said. 

"Go ahead Dean," the head game-maker, an angel named Raphael, said. 

Dean nodded and looked around at the weapons scattered around the room. He decided to go with throwing a small knife, like he had on that first day.   
He was nostalgic like that.   
He hesitated in front of the table, his hands shaking. He picked a couple of knives up off the table and aimed it at the target. Aiming expertly, he threw it so it wobbled and just barely grazed the top of the target. He looked crestfallen. He tried again and again. After five minutes, he had one knife stuck in the target and about twenty knives littering the floor around it. 

"Okay Winchester," Raphael said finally. "You can go."

Dean looked up at him and nodded. Then he caught Cas' eye. Cas looked over the other game-makers reactions before looking back at Dean and nodding subtly, smiling.   
As he turned down the hall Dean grinned. Once he was alone in the elevator, he started laughing. He was still laughing when he get to his floor. 

"What is it, boy?" Bobby asked him. 

"You should have seen their faces," he laughed. 

"Were they impressed?" Gabriel asked. 

Dean laughed harder. 

"Dean what did you do?" Bobby asked. 

"I just threw some knives." Dean grinned. 

"Well how did you do?" 

"We'll find out tonight." He smiled. He started laughing again as he walked to his room. 

That evening, the four of them, Balthazar, and Heather sat on the couch, staring anxiously at the screen.   
The this-year-green-clad Caesar Flickerman appeared, smiling blindingly, as usual. "As you all know, today, our tributes showed their skills to our game-makers and were scored accordingly out of 12. Would you like to see what they got?"  
An annoying applause track played.   
"Alright let's started. One- Lilith: 9, Crowley: 10. Two-" 

And so it went. There were some good scores. There were some average scores. There weren't really any bad scores. And then came their district. 

"Ten- Joanna: 7."   
The room applauded for Jo, who blushed. 

"Dean-oh my, Dean Winchester with a 1." 

Dean chuckled. 

"Dean, ya idjit!" Bobby yelled. "What were you thinking?!"

"Chill Bobby," Dean said. "It's all good."

"Boy, you had better get your act together. The interviews are tomorrow,"

"Already? Time flies when you're on death-row," Dean deadpanned. "I'm going to bed. I'll see you guys tomorrow,"

"Dean." Bobby called. "Dean!"

Dean ignored him and kept walking.   
Caesar's reaction to Dean's score was perfect. No one in Panem would forget that "Dean-Oh-My-Dean-Winshester" got a 1. He grinned. Things were falling nicely into place.   
However, as Bobby had pointed out, the night before the interview  
was already here. He had completely forgotten. It was going to be a bitch.  
Eventually he heard the rest of the team hitting the hay. Finally.   
It was 1148. Dean lay awake in bed, unable to sleep, needing fresh air. He got up, left his room, and silently made his way to the balcony. He gripped the railing and took a deep breath. 

"Uh Cas?" he called out softly.   
Almost immediately, the door behind him opened, and the trench-coated angel walked out. 

"Hello Dean,"

"Hey, Cas,"

"I have your necklace," he told him, pulling Sam's amulet out of his pocket. 

A relieved smile broke out over Dean's face. "Thanks, man." He slipped it back on over his head. "I've felt naked without it." His faced suddenly reddened and his eyes widened with controlled horror as he glanced at Cas. "That's not, uh, what i meant to say."

Cas struggled not to grin and failed. "Are you nervous, Dean?" he asked. 

"Yeah." Dean admitted. "A bit. This'll be the hardest part,"

"What do you mean?" 

The two of them sat at the little table that was out there. 

"The other tributes. I've met them. They believe this crap i've been selling. I need the Capitol to believe it. Otherwise all this has basically been for nothing,"

"If it's any consolation, you did perfectly in the scoring session," Cas informed him. "The others thought you were awful. If you can convince them, you can convince the civilians."

Dean grinned. "Thanks Cas,"

"I have to get back." Cas said sorrily. "I will see you when you win." 

Dean smiled gratefully. 

"Dean, i wish you didn't have to do this," said Cas, knowing he should leave. 

"The interview? Yeah, it'll be a pain in the ass, but i'll-"

"No. The games," Cas interrupted him. "You shouldn't have to do this. No one should. Metatron is turning his people into killers."

Dean's mouth hung open. "But...but you're a Game Maker," he stammered. He still didn't truly understand Cas' position on this matter. 

"That doesn't mean i like it," Cas sighed. "I really should go."  
Then Cas started off towards the door. 

"Cas, wait!"

Cas turned around and Dean wrapped his arms around him. 

"Thank you, Cas."

Cas looked startled. "For what?" 

Dean stepped back. "Just for being the only angel who seems to give a damn what happens to me,"

"Angel?" Cas repeated. "Is that a flirtation?" 

Dean's faced reddened. "No. I mean it wasn't intended to be. I mean, uh, you could, well, you could take it that way if you'd, uh, like to i...i suppose..."

Cas laughed. "I take it it has some other secret meaning i can figure out later?" 

Dean grinned. "If you think you have time, i'll tell you now."

Cas looked at his watch and sighed. But then he smiled and sat back down next to Dean. "Explain."

Dean grinned widely. "I have this theory..." he started. He told Cas his notions of the angels, demons, monsters, and humans. He explained why he thought that, and how perfectly it fit. 

"Angels," Cas pondered. Then he smiled. "I like it. You know, obviously you are a lot braver than people think, but you're actually a lot smarter too."

Dean's heart raced. Why did he have to say things like that?  
Cas checked his watch again. 

"Damn. Now i really have to go." He got up quickly. "Goodbye Dean." 

Cas stared at Dean for a minute before giving him a light kiss on the cheek. 

Dean was still smiling when Cas disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! This was fun to write and I'm glad you all are enjoying it.


	6. The Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dean! Common up here," Caesar called. The angels screamed and clapped. 
> 
> Dean's heart was in his throat, but not for the reason people like Crowley thought. Benny winked reassuringly. Dean nodded curtly.  
> As he walked robotically towards the chair, he thought things through. He'd have to play this off perfectly. He needed to be terrified, but believably so, like he was trying not to be. He took a deep, shaky breath. Then he sat down, much to the delight of the crowd.

The next day was full of boring pointless lessons about how to act in the big interview that night. Etiquette and angles and all that sort of crap. Dean knew what he was going to do. He also knew, however, that Bobby and co. wouldn't approve, so he just sort of went along with it. His feet ached and he had so many different angles flitting around in his head he had a migraine.  
Then it was time for wardrobe. 

"I wasn't thinking too extravagant," Balthazar said. "Maybe something more traditional,"

"Meaning?"

Balthazar pulled out a nice suit. A weight was lifted from Dean's chest. He could handle a suit. 

"Try it on," Balthazar urged. 

Dean took the suit and tried it on. It fit nicely. He stared down at it apprehensively. "This isn't going to like, i don't know, turn into a cow when i spin around?" he asked. 

Balthazar laughed. "Unfortunately no. We do have this though." He handed Dean a tie decorated with cartoon cows. 

"You're joking,"

"I figured, with that angle you're playing, that i am pretending i know nothing about, it would work well."

So he had figured it out. Maybe he was wrong about this guy. 

Dean grinned. "It's perfect!"

"Glad you think so."

Dean took the tie and slipped it on over his neck. "Thanks, man, i owe you,"

"Not at all."

Dean left the room and headed to the backstage. 

"Hey, Dean!" Benny was running over too him.

"Hey Benny." Dean grinned. 

"Are you ready to show them what you aren't made of?" 

Dean glanced around to double check that no one was listening. "You bet," he winked. 

"Is that what that fugly tie is for?"

Dean laughed. "I'm lucky my 'stylist' has no style." 

Benny laughed too.  
Then Crowley and his crew walked in and Dean sobered up. 

"Look at his tie!" Meg pointed and laughed. 

Dean shrunk back. 

"What are you, ten?" Abaddon laughed. Then she stopped. "Oh, wait..."

Dean winced. The group laughed harder and the all moved on.  
As the rounded the corner. Dean turned and smirked at Benny. 

"Brother, if i didn't know better, i'd say you were the wimpiest son of a bitch here. How did you manage a 1 in training?"

"Oh, you know me." Dean grinned. "I was just being myself," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact with anyone. Then he grinned. "Nice job with that 8,"

"Thanks."

Suddenly, music started playing. 

"It's starting?"

"Yup,"

"Good luck, man,"

"Good luck, brother."

The two of them followed the rest of the tributes onto the stage and took their respective places in the back. Dean's leg twitched nervously and he avoided looking at the audience. The music blared in Dean's ears and he jumped at each loud noise. He acted like he wasn't paying attention to anything, but he was focusing on each interview very intently. Every tribute had an angle they played. Fierce, sexy, strong and silent, mysterious, etc. No one had played the 'i'm a wimp please don't hurt me' angle yet.  
Finally, they reached district 10. Jo was up first. Once again, she looked gorgeous. Her dress fit her form perfectly. Dean on the other hand felt like a six grader at a prom. 

"Ms. Joanna," Caesar gasped. "You look absolutely stunning,"  
"Thank you, Caesar." She giggled. Jo never giggled. "My stylist is a magician,"

"She must be. I bet it was difficult to find something to match that beautiful face."

She blushed. 

"Tell me, Joanna,"

"Please. Jo,"

"Alright then," Caesar smiled at the audience. "Jo. What is the biggest difference between here and home,"

"There's a lot less cows here," she supplied, grinning. 

Caesar laughed. "I'm have no doubts about that. How do you think you're going to do tomorrow?"

"Well i don't think i'll have to much trouble getting sponsors," she giggled, tossing her hair over her shoulder. 

Caesar and the audience laughed. Dean liked her angle. Cute and confident. 

"Honestly, i don't know, Caesar," she said seriously. "I'd like to get back to my family,"

"You have someone back home?" Caesar asked sympathetically. 

"Just me and my mom," she said. "Though Ash hangs out sometimes. Or all the time. He practically live with us,"

"Oh, are you and Ash a thing?"

Dean hastily turned his laugh into a violent cough. 

"No. Not at all." Jo smiled at the thought. "He just works for my mom. We run a roadhouse,"  
"So it's just you and your mom?" Caesar asked. "And this Ash boy?"

"Well, most of the time," she said. "We meet almost everyone running the only local bar. But we're good friends with Bobby Singer and also the Winchesters," 

"Surely not the Winchester we have here with us tonight?" Caesar asked. 

Her smile wavered. She looked back at him. "The very same,"

"Well that's a shame," Caesar sighed.  
Clearly he had been forbidden to ask about romances between tributes after the last forbidden-love fiasco. It was so clear that he wanted to. Fortunately for Jo's pride, he refrained.  
A bell went of signaling the end of Jo's interview. 

"Well we all wish you luck, Jo,"

"Thank you, Caesar."  
Jo smiled sweetly and walked back to the back. The audience loudly applauded her off. 

"Dean! Common up here," Caesar called. The angels screamed and clapped. 

Dean's heart was in his throat, but not for the reason people like Crowley thought. Benny winked reassuringly. Dean nodded curtly.  
As he walked robotically towards the chair, he thought things through. He'd have to play this off perfectly. He needed to be terrified, but believably so, like he was trying not to be. He took a deep, shaky breath. Then he sat down, much to the delight of the crowd. 

"Dean, so good to see you," Caesar smiled amiably. "You seem nervous," he observed. 

Dean's eyes widened like an animal about to be shot, and he shook his head shortly. 

Caesar laugh. "There's no need to be scared, son. We're all family here."

He smiled gratefully, but he wanted to smack Caesar. Family? Family who wanted to see him kill or be killed. 

"So Dean, a little birdie told me you are friends with our Joanna, i'm sorry, Jo Harvelle," Caesar said. 

We just went over this. 

"Yessir," he said timidly. "Our fathers were friends." Immediately he closed his eyes in regret. He knew he shouldn't have said that. It was just going to make him bitter, and make it harder to keep up his act. 

"Your fathers?" Caesar asked. 

"Yeah, you know, since he worked the bar," Dean said quickly, his eyes darting around the audience. He shouldn't have mentioned his father. 

"Some of you may remember-" as if any would forget "-Dean's father, John, was in the quarter quell last year."

'Yep. And now he's dead. And Sam and i are orphans.' Dean thought.  
The crowd went crazy. Dean breathed shakily and stared at his shoes. 

"Your father was a crowd-favorite," Caesar said. "Do you feel like these are big shoes to fill?" 

You have no idea. 

"I...i guess so," he stammered. 

"We only have a bit more time, so what can you tell us about your brother?"

"Sam?" Dean smiled softly.  
Caesar nodded.  
"Sammy's the best brother there is. It's just me and him back at home. We don't really have anyone. I love the kid. There...there isn't anything i wouldn't do for him,"

"And all of Panem knows it," Caesar said sympathetically. "What did you say to him before you left?"

"I told him i'd be right back," he trailed off and looked at the ground. Caesar put his hand on his chest sympathetically. The crowed "awwed". Dean grinned internally. Maybe now the angels would send Sammy support now, since his pathetic big bro was gonna die.  
The bell sounded. 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Dean Winchester!" 

The angels clapped and whooped as Dean shuffled back as Caesar called up Charlie. Benny gave him a subtle thumbs up and Dean grinned to himself. 

Now all he had to do was win.  
-  
That night he sat on the back porch, by himself. The cool air brushed through his hair and cooled hid face. No more nights like this.  
He thought about that evening. When they had gotten back, Bobby had been livid. But he knew he couldn't change anything, so he had just glared grumpily at Dean all through the meal.  
The door behind him creaked open. Dean spun around. "Oh. It's you,"

"Who were you expecting?" Jo laughed. 

"Just... No one. Never mind. Sit down." He gestured to the chair next to him.  
He mentally smacked himself. He shouldn't have expected Cas to show. He shouldn't have been thinking about him at all. Cas was a Gamemaker, an angel and he, a lowly human tribute was probably never going to see him again. And yet Dean hadn't been able to stop thinking about him all day. Not since...

"Couldn't sleep?" Jo asked him, interrupting his thoughts. 

"No. You?" 

"No. Kind of a big day tomorrow." She sighed. "Dean i don't know what to do."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked. 

"I know now that i'm not making it out of there. Should i even try?"

"Don't talk like that," Dean said fiercely. "You should absolutely try,"

"Whats the point though?"

"Unless we stop them, the demons are going to be the ones that get home." Dean said grimly. 

"Demons?"

"Careers," Dean clarified. 

"Ah."

The two of them stared at the stars. There seemed to be less then back in district 10. 

"Probably the best thing for both of us would be to get a good night's sleep," Dean told Jo. "Might be our last chance."

Jo nodded, getting up. "See you tomorrow Dean." 

He nodded at her as she went back inside.  
Dean sighed. He wanted to see Cas, but he knew he couldn't get away from work. Not today. Not with tomorrow. 

"Stop it," he muttered aloud to himself. "Just stop. You need to get out, you need to get home, get to Sam. In order to do that you meed to stay focused. Focused, ya hear me? No distractions."

He took one last look at the real sky before turning back inside and heading to his room. He lay in his bed for a few mintes before drifting into an uneasy, restless sleep.


	7. The Bloodbath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "5." A voice started counting down.   
> Dean spread his feet out as far as he could without stepping off the platform. 
> 
> "4." 
> 
> He got ready to sprint.
> 
> "3."
> 
> "Scared, Winchester?" Abaddon called. 
> 
> "2."
> 
> "You wish, bitch." Dean answered.   
> That threw her off. 
> 
> "1."

"Get up, ya idjit!" Bobby rapped on his door. "You're gonna be late!"   
Dean groaned, but rolled out of bed.   
"You should come grab a bite to eat," Bobby said as Dean opened his door. "Might be a while-"

"Got it," Dean interrupted. 

He didn't need to be reminded. Honestly, he didn't want to eat much. Eating a ton would made him sick and his body would be unprepared for long amounts of time without food. Still, he got a bacon cheeseburger and a slice of pie. 

"For breakfast?" Jo asked, amused, eyeing his plate. 

"Hell yeah." Dean grinned, taking a large bite from his burger. 

She rolled her eyes.   
Balthazar and Heather appeared at the door. 

"It's time,"

"Well that's not ominous or anything," Dean grumbled. "I'll see you, Jo," he said, getting up.

"Yeah," she said softly. 

Dean followed Balthazar to a loading dock where he got on a small plane with the other boys. 

"I'll meet you there," Balthazar said.   
Dean nodded and sat down next to Benny. 

"You ready for this?" Dean asked. 

"As i'll ever be," Benny grinned. "What about you? Time to stop pretending?"

"Let me get back to you on that," Dean muttered sinking into his chair as Crowley passed him. 

"Hey, 8?" he asked, turning towards the two of them. "Why are you throwing your lot in with them? Especially that one?" He indicated to Dean. "Staying around people like that is going to get you killed,"

"Thanks for you opinion Crowley," Benny said evenly, "but i didn't ask for it."

Crowley shrugged. "Your funeral." He turned and walked over to sit next to Alistair. 

Then a redheaded angel came over with a long needle and jabbed it into Dean's arm. 

"Ow hey what the hell?" Dean exclaimed. 

"It's a tracker," the angel said. "Wouldn't want you to get lost," she added and then moved on. 

"You okay brother?" Benny asked. 

"I hate shots," he grumbled. 

"For real?" Benny asked. "Or just-"

"For real," Dean informed him. 

"Damn." Benny grinned. "I would not have pegged you as the type-"

"Shut up." 

The plane landed in a loading dock a but below ground. Dean had no idea where they were, which annoyed him.   
As promised, Balthazar was waiting for him. He led Dean to a small room with a bench and a glass tube thing. 

"What are these?" Dean asked, picking up a shimmery full body suit. 

"Just what you have to where," Balthazar said. 

Dean sighed. He just wanted to where his jacket and jeans and flannel. For once.   
He slipped it on. Fortunately, it wasn't the most uncomfortable thing he'd ever warn, though here that wasn't saying much. 

"So what's the tube for?" Dean asked.

"That's what's going to get you to the arena," Balthazar said. "We're under it. You'll step in it, it'll close, the bottom will raise until you are standing in the arena. But don't step off the platform until you hear the first canon. Otherwise-"

"Otherwise i'll be blown up," Dean finished. "Got it."

Balthazar sighed as Dean got into the glass chamber. 

"Good luck, Dean,"

"Balthazar!" Dean exclaimed. "If i didn't know any better, i'd say you cared."

Balthazar smiled in spite of himself.   
Then the platform below Dean's feet stared to move. His breathing slowed and he looked up into the blinding sunlight. 

"Good bye, Dean," Balthazar called as the room disappeared below him. 

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Metatron's voice echoes around the arena. "Welcome to the 82nd Annual Hunger Games!"

Dean stared around at the landscape. All the other tributes were dressed identically to him, and were standing in a semicircle facing a giant gold cornucopia filled with weapons and other vital supplies. Surrounding the cornucopia was a forest tall barren trees. It wasn't like the 74th. There wasn't really a ton of leaves on the trees, nor was there grass. There were lots of rocks though. Dean didn't see an immediate source of water, but he knew there was one. 

"5." A voice started counting down.   
Dean spread his feet out as far as he could without stepping off the platform. 

"4." 

He got ready to sprint.

"3."

"Scared, Winchester?" Abaddon called. 

"2."

"You wish, bitch." Dean answered.   
That threw her off. 

"1."

BOOM.   
Dean leapt off the platform and practically flew towards the cornucopia. He grabbed a duffle of the ground. He also managed a machete before most of the other tributes had reached the Cornucopia.  
Once they did, he was gonna get the hell out of there. And for good reason. It was complete mayhem. Once he started running, his ears were bursting with screams and yells, metal clanging and bodies falling.   
As he ran, he spotted a knife on the ground. It was strange, unlike any he'd ever seen. It was super serrated on one side, smooth and pointy on the other. The handle was engraved with some weird symbols.   
He wanted it.   
Dean dove for the knife, but his hand reached it right after another hand did: Ruby's.

"You can't even use this," she hissed. "Back off Dean, and maybe i won't have to kill you,"

"I'd like to see you try, you snarky bitch," he challenged. 

Thrown off by his attitude, she didn't react fast enough when he ran at her, tackling her to the ground. She tried to slash the knife at him, but he dodged, and grabbed the knife out of her hand. She screamed. 

"Don't kill me, don't please!"

"You just tried to kill me!" Dean yelled. 

"I won't do it again, please!" Ruby squealed. Then she looked behind him and grinned. 

Suddenly, someone jumped on his back, pulling him back onto the ground. The kid had a knife in Dean's shoulder before he could get him off. Once he did, Dean took his jagged knife and stabbed him. The kid fell over, his eyes blank. It was the boy from 2. Meg's brother; a demon.   
Dean cursed as he struggled to his feet.   
Ruby was already up and running, almost to the forest. He started to run after her, but every time he moved his arm, it hurt like a sonofabitch. Despite that, he was catching up to her. When he was in range, he threw the knife square into her back. She yelped and fell to the ground. As he ran past her, he grabbed his knife and continued to the trees. He glanced back, immediately wishing he hadn't. There was blood everywhere. The ground was littered with bodies. He scanned the fray for people he knew.   
That's when he saw the boy from 12, Gordon, sneaking up behind Benny, a long sword in his hand. Dean growled, forgetting about the pain in his arm. Knife still in his hand, he charged across the field.   
When Benny turned around he saw Gordon, with a sword inches from his neck. He also saw Dean, slicing his machete through Gordon's neck. His head fell to the ground.   
Dean and Benny looked at each other. 

"Thanks, brother,"  
"Don't mention it." Dean nodded. 

"Am i next?"

Dean gave him a look.   
They both smiled. 

"Don't die," Dean said. 

"You neither."

Then Dean ran off. He ran as far as he could before he needed to stop. He had forgotten his shoulder. He was losing too much blood. He stumbled into a tree and took a deep breath. Then he started going through the duffle, which he fortunately hadn't lost.   
Pack of saltines? Check. Night vision googles? Check. Loaf of bread? Check. Small (regrettably empty) canteen? Check. 7 of large knives? Awesome. Is that a miniature explosive? No way. Canvas jacket? Score! Roll of bandages. There we go.   
Dean ripped a strand of the bandage off and wrapped it tightly around his shoulder. He winced slightly, but it was worth it. Then he slipped his new jacket on and got up.   
Suddenly,

BOOM   
BOOM   
BOOM   
BOOM   
BOOM   
BOOM   
BOOM   
BOOM   
BOOM   
BOOM   
BOOM   
BOOM   
BOOM. 

13 canon fires. 13 dead already. 11 left. Half way. He had no idea who all was dead, but he would find out soon, when the sun set.   
He new that he had to find water, and preferably soon. Dean continued in the direction he had started. He walked for about an hour without finding anything. Then, whilst he was in the center of a very dense part of the forest, a tree toppled over. Dean looked around, but there was no one there. Then another tree fell. Then another. Then another. They were creating a path. Dean glanced around again, but there really was no one. So he shrugged, and followed the path of toppled trees. It wasn't long before he heard the familiar rush of a river. He grinned and took out his canteen, rushing over to the riverbed. 

•••  
"Castiel!" Raphael barked. "What was that?!"

"My hand slipped," Cas suggested. 

"And knocked over the trees in a perfect line from the Winchester kid to the river?" Raphael shot back. 

"Yes," Cas insisted. "It was an accident. It won't happen again,"

"It better not." Raphael glared at him and then walked off. 

When he was sure no one was looking, Cas smirked.


	8. Joanna Beth Harvelle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sudden gust of wind almost knocked him out of his tree. It blew a thin piece of paper out of the canister which Dean managed to catch before it fluttered to the floor. 
> 
> Dogs are coming. Run.  
> -Angel

It was getting dark. Dean leaned up against a tree and stared at the "sky" as the anthem started to play. Names started appearing in the sky.  
The boy from 2 Dean had ganked. That meant Lilith was still alive. And Crowley. And Meg.  
Awesome.  
Both from 4.  
Oh good. So also Abaddon and Alistair are still kicking.  
Both from 5.  
Both from 6.  
The blonde from 7.  
The 13-year-old from 8. Not Benny.  
That boy from 9.  
The boy from 11. Jo was still alive.  
That crazy blonde chick from 12. Gordon.  
Then the sky went dark.  
Dean thought about who was left.  
All the demons except those two boys and Ruby. Lilith, Crowley, Meg, Abaddon and Alistair.  
Dick was still alive.  
Benny!  
The thieving chick.  
Jo. Him.  
Charlie.  
13 tributes. 11 people left. How was he going to do this? He shook his head. Positive. Be positive, that's 13 less people to go through before he could see Sammy again.  
So what next? Despite it being who-knows-how-late, Dean felt wide awake. He started taking items out of his bag and dispersing them throughout his jacket's pockets. That duffle was too cumbersome. By now, the other tributes probably wouldn't all be awake.  
Keeping the knife in his hand, he walked off into the darkness.  
For a while he found no one. Then, he heard the snap of a twig behind him. Spinning around, he had the person pinned to a tree, his knife at their neck. 

"Jo?" He put the knife in his pocket and took a step back. Her face and arms were a bit cut up, but it was her. 

"Dean," she sighed with relief and gave him a hug. "So glad it's you,"

"Yeah, are you okay?"

"As i can be." She shrugged. "Bloodbath is over."

"Plowed through more than half already."

"What happened to your shoulder?!" she asked, appalled. 

Dean glanced down. It didn't hurt as much, but the blood had soaked through his jacket a bit. 

"I got stabbed," He shrugged with the other shoulder. "It'll be fine,"

"Dean, we need to get you help."

"From who? This is the Hunger Games," he reminded her. "We're not in district 10 anymore. I. Will. Be. Fine,"

"Fine," Jo snapped. "What do we do now?"

"Woah. We?" Dean took a half-step back. 

"O-oh," Jo stammered. "I just,...i thought-"

"An alliance is a bad idea, Jo," Dean apologized. 

"Dean, i'll die on my own,"

"That's the thing. You'll die with me, too,"

"Then at least we'll die together,"

"No. I'm not dying. I'm seeing my brother again."

Jo bit her lip. "Right,"

"Okay then," Dean nodded. He started to walk away. 

"Wait, Dean," Jo spoke up. "We could cover more ground together. Watch each other's backs."

Dean closed his eyes. He really didn't want to make alliances with anyone. But this was Jo. She wasn't going to leave. Dean turned back around. 

"Fine. Just stay close and stay quiet," he told her. "And don't you dare tell your mom." He grinned. 

She grinned back.  
Back in district 10, Sam, Dean, and Jo would go on little excursions around the market and such. Disrupt venders, mess around with peacekeepers. They had a stakeout in one of the empty Victor houses once. Originally, it would just be Sam and Dean, but Jo would often weasel her way in with them. Every time she did, Dean'd say the same thing. "Fine. Stay close and stay quiet. Don't you dare tell your mother." He thought bringing this back would calm her down a bit. He was right. 

"So...what do we do now?" she repeated. 

"I was thinking we should scout out the territory," Dean said. "You know, while everyone is asleep,"

"And what if someone gets in the way?"

Dean stared at her. "Then we get them out of the way."

Jo opened her mouth, but no noise came out. Then she closed it and nodded. 

"Good. Let's move." 

Dean shouldered his duffel and started out through the woods. He could hear Jo behind him, struggling to keep up, doing her best not to make any noise on the annoyingly dry leaves that littered the ground. Nothing interesting happened for about am hour.  
That's when Dean heard Jo's strangled cry for help.  
Immediately, he spun around, reaching for his serrated knife, but finding that it wasn't there. When he looked up, he knew why.  
It was the girl from nine. She held Jo by the hair and had Dean's knife pressed against Jo's throat. Dean moved towards them. 

"Ah, ah, ah." Jo winced as the girl pushed the knife harder against Jo's neck. "One more step and i swear, you friend is dead."

Dean had to admit, her british accent was really distracting. 

"Bela, right?" Dean asked, his hands out in front of him in a surrendering position. 

"How nice to be recognized,"

"I never forget a thieving bitch when i see one." 

She started, clearly taken aback by his drastic change in attitude, but, to her credit, she held firm. "I wouldn't be talking like that if my friend's life were in danger."

Dean paused for a moment. "You're not going to kill her." He shook his head. 

"Oh really?" she asked as Jo struggled under he tightening grasp. "And why is that?"

"See, i happen to be able to read people. If you wanted to kill her, you would have done it by now. And then there's your motive: Self-preservation," Dean explained. "If you kill her, i will run you through with one of the seven knives i still have. Come to think of it, i'll run you through right now unless you give me my damn knife back."

After her bluff had been called, Bela dropped what Dean had correctly guessed was a facade. Her confidence crumbled and the knife clattered to the ground.  
Jo took a few seconds to collect herself before turning to her.

"You caught me unprepared," she told her. "Next time i won't be,"

"Next time?" Bela asked. "So you're not going to kill me?"

Jo glanced at Dean. "I said i'd kill you if you didn't give my knife back. Which you did." He spun the knife in his fingers. "You can go." 

She stared at him, not moving. He sighed. 

"You're afraid," he deduced. "Of the de...careers." She nodded. "Do you have any family?" he asked. She shook her head, puzzled by the sudden new question. "Any friends?" She shook her head again.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Jo muttered. 

"Jo." Dean silenced her. "Bela, i guess," He sighed. "I guess you can stay with us." 

"Why would i want that?" she asked disdainfully. "How could you protect me? You're injured." She indicated to his shoulder. 

"Yeah and as you can see it's really a limitation." Dean glared. "I'm offering you my help. Take it or leave it."

Jo started to protest. Bela looked nonchalant, but she nodded. 

Suddenly, Dean pinned her against a tree, his voice lowered to a whisper. "But i swear. If i find any of my stuff missing, if either of us get hurt because of you, you're dead. I'm doing this for you. Don't abuse it."

She nodded quickly before Dean let her go. Immediately, her cool was back. 

"I suggest we move on," she ordered. "All this noise will have been heard by someone, no matter how late it is," 

"We should find somewhere to rest," Jo added, begrudgingly agreeing. "It's been a long day." 

Bela nodded affirmative and started walking off. Dean rolled his eyes but followed her. Of course they wanted to rest. They weren't as pumped up with adrenaline as he was. He could be up all night. The sooner this was over, the sooner he's be home with Sam.  
Sam...  
It had been much to long since Dean had seen his little brother. He hoped he was okay. He hoped he was helping Ellen. He hoped he wasn't worrying too much about him. He hoped he was still doing well at school. He hoped he was eating okay. He hoped he was staying strong. He hoped...  
But that's all he could do. Hope.  
Dean's hands went to the amulet hanging around his neck. The only real reminder he had of home. Of his brother. He was so glad he had gotten it back.  
Crap.  
Now he was thinking about Cas.  
He had to have been the one who knocked down all those trees. There was no friggen way that had been an accident. He smiled. A guardian angel watching over him. Would he ever actually see Cas again? He hoped so.  
Damn. He needed to get out of this arena. Get back to his brother. See his friend. What if... Dean's mind started racing. An idea started to form.  
"How about here?" Jo asked, pulling Dean back into reality. 

"It'll work fine," Bela said. 

"I wasn't asking you." Jo glared. 

"I like it." Dean told her, setting down his bag. "You two get some shut-eye. I'll take first watch."

Jo nodded immediately. Bela seemed a bit more hesitant, but was apparently to tired to think of anything smart to say.  
The two of them lay down, but seemed quite reluctant to actually fall asleep. They eyed each other warily. It would be a long night.  
Dean climbed up one of the tall, skinny trees for a better view. Every so often, he would look back down at the girls who eventually drifted off. However, Dean was wide awake, frustrated that he couldn't keep moving. He wanted to continue exploring, to kill the demons, the monsters, get back home as soon as he could. But now he had allies, something he hadn't counted on, and he wasn't about to abandon them, especially not Jo.  
Although...  
No. No. Dean hated himself for even thinking about it. Jo was his friend, his family. Now that they were working together, they were sticking together. That was that.  
The lack of action and prolonged solidarity gave him a lot of time to think, and as much as it confused him, most of those thoughts were about Cas. He didn't understand it, but he couldn't get that black hair, blue-eyed angel boy out of his head. His thoughts kept going back to the last time they met each other. He... He kissed him. What? Dean hadn't been in the Capitol for very long, but in district 10, that means something. Granted, it had only been on the cheek, but... He needed to talk to him again, to see him, to see if he actually...  
Games. Hunger Games. Fight to the Death. Focus.  
Dean shook his head a couple of times to clear it and looked back at the girls. They were still sleeping.  
He tried to shift himself to get a better look at them, and that's when he remembered his shoulder. He tried to hide it, but it hurt like hell. Since he had been stabbed Dean had been feeling increasingly woozy, but hadn't wanted to say anything about it. He slipped his jacket off of his arm to take a better look. He immediately wished he hadn't. Blood had completely soaked through the bandages and, while it was slower, he was certainly still bleeding. That's when he heard the soft tinkling he recognized as a sponsored gift. A silver canister landed softly on the tree branch next to him. He opened it, finding some sort of bottle of salve. For his arm. He smiled. Dean wasn't quite sure who had sponsored him already, but he was grateful. He took off the bloody bandage and applied some of the salve on his wound. Immediately, the bleeding stopped. His head felt a bit clearer. By the time he was done, it had already completely scabbed over. 

"Awesome," he muttered. Putting the bottle in one of his pockets, Dean slipped his jacket back over his shoulder without bothering with another bandage. A sudden gust of wind almost knocked him out of his tree. It blew a thin piece of paper out of the canister which Dean managed to catch before it fluttered to the floor. 

Dogs are coming. Run.  
-Angel

He grinned. Cas was looking out for him. As far as he knew, this hadn't happened in the history of the game; a gamemaker helping a tribute. His heart started racing. There was no way the head gamemaker wouldn't find out, and there was no way he would be okay with it. What would they do to him?  
Then he read the note again. 

"Jo!" he yelled. He scrambled down the tree and ran over to her. "Jo," he yelled again. 

"Wh-what?" she asked, groggily waking up. "What?"

"We need to go. Run. Now,"

She was immediately up. "Why?"

"Run," he shouted. "Bela! Get your ass up!" 

"I need to sleep," she mumbled. 

"No you don't, you're going to die, and i am not about to carry you."

Her eyes snapped open. "What?"

The three of them heard a growling sound in the trees. 

"Dogs," Dean confirmed. Run!"

They ran. They bolted through the trees, jumping logs and dodging branches. The dogs were right on their heels. It was dark and the couldn't see them at all. But they could sure hear them. The panting, the growling. Dean guessed there were probably seven or eight. And they ran. They were running as fast as they could, but it wasn't enough. Bela tripped, arms flailing, and fell to the forest floor screaming. Dean started to stop, but Jo pulled him on. 

"There's nothing we can do!" she shouted. 

A canon boomed, signaling the death of another tribute. But the dogs didn't stop running. And neither did Dean or Jo. 

'We're probably the only source of entertainment right now.' Dean thought bitterly. 

Unfortunately for him, his legs were starting to hurt. His shoulder hadn't completely healed. He wouldn't be able to out run the dogs much longer. He panted, hoping for anyone, anything that could help. The he felt something pulling back on his pant leg and fell to the ground. 

•••  
"Well, i don't know what tipped him off," Raphael started, "but i'm quite glad he was. The whole running away things is much better than the dogs killing the girls and cornering that boy somewhere. Wouldn't you agree?"

There was a chorus of nods and "yes"es. 

"I must say," he continued, "he surprised me. He's actually quite good. This might turn out to be a quite interesting Games."

More "yes"es and a few "indeed"s. 

"Castiel?" he asked. "What does our 'young blood' think?"

Cas had his eyes glued to the screen. He was trying his best to keep a impassive expression as he watched his friend get chased by hounds from hell. He barely noticed Raphael talking.

"Castiel," he repeated louder. 

Cas jumped. "Yessir?" His words slurred together. 

"What do you think of these Games so far?"

"Very well, sir," he said obediently. "I'm sure the audience are loving this unexpected bout of action,"

Raphael smiled. "Exactly."

Cas' eyes went back to the screen. The girl from 9 was dead. Suddenly, his grip on his armrest tightened. A hellhound grabbed Dean by the base of his pant leg. It was all Cas could do not to cry out. He wanted to run over, push Michael away from the controls, and control the dogs himself. He wanted to help more.  
But Jo did that for him. Dean had barely even hit the ground before Jo was there jabbing one of Dean's knives into the mutt's head. Cas let out a sigh of relief as Dean scrambled to his feet, mostly unharmed. But it didn't last long. While Dean was getting up, another dog tackled Jo. She screamed as the dog's claws dug into her abdomen. This time, it was Dean's turn to come to the rescue. Dean slashed wildly, stabbing three of the dogs. He then quickly knelt down, picked Jo up, and started running with her. Cas had to admire his loyalty. Dean somehow managed to scramble up a tree with Jo, and get high enough to avoid the mutts. Cas let out a soft sigh of relief. He was okay. 

"You seem fairly pleased, Castiel," Raphael noticed, "considering how only one tribute died here."

"Jo is going to die," Cas said matter-of-fact-ly. "There's no way she'll survive those wounds." He hated saying but he knew it was true. "And...Dean will still be trapped in that tree. It'll be interesting to see how or if he gets out of that,"

"Hmm." Raphael nodded, pleased with Cas' response. 

He turned away and Cas closed his eyes. This might be harder than he had hoped.  
•••

Dean propped Jo up against the trunk of the tree, while he sat closer to the end of the branch. She coughed slightly as Dean brushed her hair out of her face. 

"It's going to be alright," he told her, ignoring the jumping, growling dogs circling the tree. "I've got some bandages in here, a bit if this solution that might help. It really helped m-"

"Dean," Jo interrupted him wealy. "Stop. Don't you dare waste your bandages on me. Let's be realistic here." She glanced at he slashed abdomen, the back at Dean. "There's no way i'll be able to survive this."

"Jo don't talk like-" 

"I'm not done," she snapped. "You can get back to Sam now, right? I'm not in the way,"

"Jo, you were never-"

"Still not done. Dean these dogs... there's going to be no way for you to get back to the ground with them here,"

"What are you thinking?"

"Look, you can go across the top of the tree to the next one. If you can get far enough-"

"You want to blow it up," Dean concluded. "Blow up the tree and all of the dogs. Jo, you can't. It'll kill you,"

"I'm dead anyway!" Jo burst angrily. Then she sighed. "Dean, please. Let me use my life for something,"

"We don't even have any..." his voice trailed off. He did have an explosive. It had been in the duffle he picked up. 

"You have one, don't you," Jo said. 

"I do," Dean said regrettably. "But i-"

Jo held out her hand.  
Dean put his head in his hands. Without looking at her, he pulled the explosive out of his pocket and pressed it into her hand. 

He looked up at her and she smiled. "Thank you, Jo," he whispered. "You're the bravest person i know." 

He planted a kiss firmly on her forehead, before scurrying up the tree. Once he found a longer branch he used it to jump to the next tree. He was about four trees away when a large fiery explosion shook the arena, blowing him forward. He hit the ground hard, but was able to shakily get back up onto his feet.  
A canon sounded.  
Dean screamed and punched the tree nearest to him. He sunk to his knees. He'd gotten Jo killed. Both of them. If he had told them to run as soon as he'd gotten the note maybe they could have gotten away. If he hadn't been caught, Jo wouldn't have come back for him an gotten hurt. He knew he shouldn't have teamed up with her. Jo...

"I'm sorry Ellen," he said out loud, knowing they would be broadcasting his reaction. His voice was low and broken. "I'm so sorry. I...i tried so hard." He closed his eyes. "I'm so sorry," he repeated. Dean punched the tree again. 

The tree he and Jo had been in was burnt black and crumbling. The ground was littered with burnt hounds. Before Dean could register exactly what they looked like, they shimmered and disappeared.  
He gave the whole scene a look of disgust before running off into the forest.  
Damn those angels. They set this up. Keeping the lower districts in line and disguising it as entertainment. Another innocent girl was dead. They had killed her. She had never done anything to anyone and they flat-out murdered her. This was sick. All of it.  
All of it. 

•••  
"What the hell was that?!" Metatron thundered furiously. He stormed angrily into the room and eyed narrowed as he scanned the Gamer Makers. He looked intimidating despite how short he was. "Where did the Winchester get an explosive?! That was not in the inventory. How did-...this is unacceptable." Everyone was silent. No one knew how Dean had gotten a grenade. Not even Cas. "We shall have to do something about this. He can't get away with it."

Cas' heart sped up. "Sir," he said timidly. Everyone stared at him. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. "It's not really De-the Winchester's fault that he had the bomb. He could have gotten any pack, right? So um,..." He paused trying to think what to say, but Raphael never let him finish. 

"We have to blame someone." Raphael's voice was dangerously low. Some angels looked at Cas sympathetically as he shrunk into his chair. "Would you like it to be you?"

Looking back, he should have said yes. Dean had enough to deal with. But when faced with the question his confidence failed him. He shook his head. 

"I thought not," Raphael glared. He moved on. 

"We need ideas, people," Metatron said. "The careers are coming up on Dean, so he is dealt with. But we can't let people think we're letting it slide,"

"There's still his brother," an angel from the back named Gadreel called. "He's staying at the Roadhouse in district 10 with Ash and Ellen."

Metatron looked at her blankly. 

"Ellen Harvell," Gadreel repeated.  
Cas wanted to walk over an smack him. 

"Brilliant," Raphael agreed. "With the Harvell's being a friend of the Winchester boy it's the best of both worlds,"

"I'll make that decision," Metatron snapped. "It's brilliant! Best of both worlds." Behind his back, Raphael sighed. "Someone call out a fire brigade. I want the roadhouse burned to a crisp."

Cas stared wide-eyed as Metatron marched out of the room. 

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slightly longer chapter for you. Please tell me what you think.   
> Thanks for reading!


	9. Season 3 Hiatus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You can take your little threat and shove it up your ass," he told her. "You're used to people being scared of you, cause you're tall and have red hair and wear too much lipstick. News flash, sister: we're all in the same boat. You are just as likely to be dead in the next 24 hours as the next person, and that scares the hell out of you. Oh, you don't show it. But deep down, you're terrified you won't make it out of here alive. But then there's me." Dean grinned. He used all of the muscles in his body to sit up quickly, throwing her off of him. "I'm not afraid of you, and i think that scares you most of all."

"Dean!" a bright squeal echoed around him. 

Dean's pulse quickened. Not now. Please not now. He turned slowly around. In seconds, he felt arms around his knees. 

"Hi Dean!" Lilith yelped. 

"Dean!" Crowley walked out from behind a tree. Alistair, Abaddon and Meg followed him. "We're so glad we found you,"

"Are you?" Dean asked looking down at Lilith. "So glad i could help you out,"

"You're right," Alistair muttered to Abaddon. "He is different,"

"Is that what this is about?" Dean asked Abaddon. "I didn't have you pegged as the type to hold a grudge," he deadpanned. 

"You called me a bitch!" she yelled.

"So i did,"

"I have to thank you though," she told him. "We probably would not have found you without that giant explosion."

"Did you blow up your girlfriend?" Crowley asked. 

Dean stared at him. His eyes were cold. 

"Ooh," Crowley said. "Have i hit a nerve?"

"Crowley, you sonofabitch." Dean glared at him. "I'm going to-"

"Going to what?" Crowley asked. "You haven't moved since we showed."

Dean looked down at Lilith. She was glaring up at him. He squirmed a bit, trying to get her to move. However, the moment he stared moving, her nails started digging into his legs. He winced. The demons laughed. 

"You know she's twelve, right?" Meg asked, her southern accent coming through. "If you can't get past a twelve year old, there's no way you're getting back to your precious little brother." 

Dean's whole body tensed up. Meg leaned forward and grabbed the collar of his coat, pulling him down to her face. "You remember my brother?" she hissed into his ear. "You should. You stabbed him in the chest."

Dean tapped his chin, pretending to be thinking. "Oh!" he gasped suddenly. "That's right. I forgot about him, i did kill your brother, yes."

Meg swung back her hand and punched Dean in the jaw. It stung like hell but he managed not to say anything. 

"Hey!" Abaddon yelled. "Who said you get to take the first swing at him?!"

Meg spun around. "I'm sorry? Did he kill your brother? No? I didn't think so,"

"He offended my honor!" 

"He killed my brother and then made fun of it!" 

"Ladies, ladies!" Dean said loudly. Everyone turned to look at him. "There's plenty of me to go around." He looked down. "Okay, Lilith, you need to get off of me." 

When she didn't move, he sighed, and pried her surprisingly strong little arms away from him. She tried to kick him in the shin, but he tripped her. She yelped and scrambled back to Crowley. 

"That wasn't very nice," Alistair told him. 

"Yeah, well, i'm not a very nice guy," Dean informed him. 

"Crowley!" Lilith whined. "The mean man in the coat hurt me!"

"Yeah, i did," Dean growled. "What are you going to do about it, you bitch?"

"Tsk tsk." Crowley shook his head, patting Lilith's shoulder. "You shouldn't be calling people this age such a fowl name,"

"I'll call her whatever the hell i want to," Dean countered. "She volunteered for these games, she should know what she's getting into,"

"Listen to me, Dean Winchester," Abaddon growled, grabbing Dean's shoulder and pinning him against a tree. "We are going to kill you. We are going to rip the skin from your body while you watch. And then, once you're dead, once the echoes of your terrified screams have faded from the far corners of the arena," she hissed. "One of us is going to win. And when we do, we're going to march right back to your little home in district ten, and find your little brother. What's his name? Sammy? We'll find little Sammy and, by god, you'll be glad you're not there so see the things we do to him."

Dean's skin crawled. He seethed with anger. "That's an interesting theory," he said slowly. "But here's my counter, you ignorant dick."

Dean's fist flew, hitting Abaddon's face several times. He pushed her away from him and she stumbled backwards. Kicking her in the shin and she collapsed onto the ground, coughing. He was just about to kick her again, when something cold and hard hit him in the back of the head, and everything went dark. 

•••  
Cas gave a sharp intake of breath. Oh no. Oh NO. This was bad. 

"Everything alright, Castiel?" Raphael asked. 

"Yessir," Cas responded. "Just caught me off guard, that's all,"

"Hmm." Raphael raised an eyebrow, but moved on. 

Cas let out a slow, quiet breath of relief. If he didn't start being more careful, he'd get caught. And that wouldn't be good for him or Dean. Or Sam, for that matter.   
That being said, he wanted badly to help him. He couldn't let Dean die, not if he was able to stop it.   
But he couldn't. He couldn't help him. Not this time. There was nothing he could do. He was powerless.   
•••

Dean opened his eyes groggily. He tried to rub his eyes, but his hands were tied behind his back. Immediately, he was wide awake. He was on the ground, hands and feet bound, laying in a bunch of leaves. He coughed, blowing leaves away from his head. 

"Ooh! He's awake!" Lilith squealed.  
Dean groaned. His head ached. His hands were losing blood; his wrists were tied too tight. He couldn't feel his legs. 

"You sure do have some fancy gadgets in your coat," Meg stated. 

Dean spotted his jacket bunched up by a tree. Meg was twirling his knife in her hand.   
Awesome. He was defenseless and he was surround by demons who all wanted to kill him. Speaking of... "Why haven't you asshats killed me yet?" he asked, squinting in the sunlight. He groaned again, inwardly. It was only the second day. 

"I believe," Crowley started, "that i speak for all of us when i say that while i appreciate Alistair knocking you out, it's no fun to kill you when you're unconscious," 

"And you demons are all about fun, huh?" Dean sighed. 

"Demons," Crowley repeated looking around at the others. "Hm. I like that,"

"Great. I'm glad." Dean grimaced. "So could you let me up, so we can get this show on the road?"

The demons laughed. 

"Ha. No," Abaddon grinned. Dean noticed with pleasure that she had a large, dark bruise on her cheek. "Nice try, though. You being conscious is enough."   
She knelt down, put one leg on either side of him, and sat on his stomach. Leaning forwards, she started whispering into his ear. "We said we'd kill you, Winchester. Slowly and painfully. And we are keeping that promise. Alistair is one of the best torturers in all of Panem. You're in for a treat."

Her eyes bore into Dean's but he managed to keep a stoic expression. On the inside though, he was terrified. Honestly he hadn't been expecting their hostility, though he probably should have been. The truth of it was, he didn't see how he could possibly get out of this one. He was pinned, he was surrounded, he was outnumbered. When he glanced around, he spotted his loaded jacket in a heap by a big rock. He didn't have any weapons. They hated his guts and weren't afraid to show it. But still, Dean managed to keep all of that hidden. He even laughed.   
That threw her off. 

"Wh-why are you laughing?" she stammered.

"You can take your little threat and shove it up your ass," he told her. "You're used to people being scared of you, cause you're tall and have red hair and wear too much lipstick. News flash, sister: we're all in the same boat. You are just as likely to be dead in the next 24 hours as the next person, and that scares the hell out of you. Oh, you don't show it. But deep down, you're terrified you won't make it out of here alive. But then there's me." Dean grinned. He used all of the muscles in his body to sit up quickly, throwing her off of him. "I'm not afraid of you, and i think that scares you most of all." 

The demons all stared at him. He raised an eyebrow and smirked. After a moment of silence, Crowley started to clap. 

"Oh, bravo, Dean Winchester, bravo," he said. "You talk a good game, you know that?" He looked Dean up and down. "Alistair, do your thing. Come along, ladies, i spotted some resources not far off. If we're lucky we'll still be able to hear his screams."

He smiled cruelly at Dean before turning and walking off, followed by Abaddon, who did the same, Meg, who gave him a thumbs up, and Lilith, who gave Dean one last hug before skipping after Crowley, giggling and clapping her hands. Then, it was just him and Alistair. Dean glanced up at him in apprehension. Alistair noticed this look and grinned. 

"There. That's it. That's the look I've been waiting for." He pulled a long, silver knife out of his bag. "Crowley's right, you know." He continued, twirling his knife tantalizingly. "Sure, we're all talk, but you are too. Oh, and make sure to scream extra loud, so that your little brother can hear you."

Dean didn't know how long he was there. It felt like months, but was probably only a couple days. He'd lost count. Every so often, they'd have an audience; Crowley, Lilith, Abaddon, Meg, but most of the time it was just him and Alistair. Oh, and all the rest of Panem. He knew the focus would be centered on them. He had thought that after a while, people would get bored, that the Game makers would send something to mix it up a bit, but Alistair was always coming up with new things to do to him. Knives, machetes, even kinds of acids and poisons, there seemed to be no end to his recourses. Every day he'd be sliced up and torn apart by this maniac demon, from the time Alistair was awake until he went to sleep, and yet he was very careful not to kill him. Dean wasn't sure if they were waiting for the right moment to kill him, or just torturing him to death. If it was the latter, it was working. Dean knew he'd lost a ton of blood, his voice was hoarse from screaming, his body covered in varying bruises and cuts. 

He only hoped Sam wasn't watching. 

One particular night, Alistair had hung Dean by his feet from a low-hanging tree branch his hands were tied behind his back and he was too weak to try and squirm around. He was surrounded by the group of demons, all of whom were sleeping, except Alistair. He was the one who had to keep watch. Suddenly, Dean heard a voice hissing in his ear. 

"Don't freak out," the voice hissed. It was Meg. "Al is going to look over here and i need you to make a face, like what i'm saying disgusts you." 

Dean was confused, but when Alistair did look over at them, Dean did as she instructed. Based on the look on Alistair's face, he had no idea what Meg was doing. 

"Keep going. I have a lot to say and fast," she continued. 

Dean glanced around. The others were asleep. He also noticed a camera by his head. Lucky for the Capitol, they were getting all of the action.   
"That little Lilith bitch is getting on my last nerve. Crowley treats her like a damn queen and i am sick of the both of them. I want them dead but," she sucked in her breath, "but i need your help."

Dean glanced at her sideways. 

"Look, if i kill Al the others will wake up and kill me. If i kill Lilith, Al will notice and kill me. But if you get Al..."

Dean didn't say anything. He got what she was saying. He nodded in silent agreement. He couldn't believe this was happening.   
The two of them waited until Alistair wasn't looking. Then Meg swiftly cut him loose, using, he noticed, his knife, and they sprang into action. 

~~~  
Sam was walking slowly down the road, kicking up dust with his worn-through shoes, his dog leaping around his feet. It was dark, but everyone was still awake; the Games were still on. Technically, he wasn't supposed to be out at night. He kept having to dodge out of sight from peacekeepers, but there was no way he was going back to the Roadhouse. Ever since Jo... Ellen was a wreck. Always crying; drinking. Sam had tried so hard to help her. He and Ash both. They tried to comfort her, but there was nothing they could say that would help her. So he spent most of his time not at school outside, walking, breathing in the cool air, leaving Ellen with Ash, who was much closer to her. Seeing her like this made him angry. Angry at the Capitol. Angry at the Games.   
The Games...  
Sam had stopped watching days ago. He couldn't bring himself to. Some people called him insensitive, but he couldn't watch his brother be tortured by demons. No. He just wouldn't. He heard enough about it at school. He could see how bad it had gotten in the way people looked at him.   
That's why he ignored it the first few times he heard his name being called. 

"Sam. Sam!"

He kept walking. 

"SAM!"

"What?!" he asked irritably, turning around. 

It was Jess, the cute blonde from his class. He hadn't known he was near her house. 

"I thought you'd want to see this," she told him. "Get in here. Your brother's escaped!"

Sam's heart skipped a beat. He practically flew into her house. He didn't greet Jess' parents, he just jumped in front of their TV.   
Dean's face was bright red and he was having trouble finding his balance, so Sam guess that, based on these and the cut rope on the tree, he'd been hanging upside down. He looked awful. Part of his face was swollen, and he was covered in scrapes and bruises. His clothes were ripped and stained red.   
But he was up and walking. Free. To Sam's confusion, Dean nodded at the brunette demon, Meg and she nodded back. He was unarmed, but he ran right at Alistair, tackling him to the ground. The camera didn't seem to know where to film. While Dean was wrestling Alistair, Meg was attacking Lilith with Dean's knife. When the little girl screamed, Meg thrust the knife into her stomach. A canon sounded. But she had woken up Crowley. He immediately assessed the situation and pulled out a knife against Meg. Meanwhile, Alistair had easily bested an already-weak Dean, had pinned him to the ground, and was punching the crap out of him. Dean somehow managed to free his arm and to left-hook him across the cheek. Alistair stumbled back, surprised. Dean used this opportunity to flip Alistair of of him and pin him to the ground. Immediately Dean's hands clamped around Alistair's neck. He gasped for breath and clawed at Dean's fingers, trying to pry them off. But he did not budge. Dean's face was deep in concentration, his eyes dark with fury and hatred. For the first time in his life, Sam was legitimately scared of his brother. Another canon sounded. The look faded and Dean stumbled back. He looked like himself again. By now Abaddon had awoken. She saw Meg fighting Crowley over Lilith and Dean staring at Alistair's body. She decided to run at Dean. He noticed her coming and scrambled to his feet. He ran off and disappeared into the forest. Abaddon stopped, probably figuring Dean would die of his injuries anyhow and turned back to Meg. When she noticed Dean was gone, and Abaddon was running at her, Meg punched Crowley in the face and ran into the woods opposite Dean. Abaddon was next to Crowley, seeing if he was okay, but not looking that stressed about it. Crowley didn't seem to like her attention anyway. He pushed her away and called her a lazy whore. Sam doubted these two would stick together for too long without the others.   
The camera cut to Dean. He was stumbling wildly through the trees. He was breathing a bit too hard, obviously gasping for air. After a minute or so of running, he tripped over a root and collapsed against a tree. Dean tried to control his breathing. The more he tried, however, the faster it got. His eyes widened wildly like a scared animal. 

"Sam!" he gasped.   
His hand was clenched around the amulet Sam had given him. Then his eyes fluttered closed and he slumped against the tree. Sam leapt to his feet. They showed Dean for one more second, just enough for Sam to see that he was still breathing. When the camera cut back to Crowley and Abaddon, Mrs. Moore shut the TV off. Sam turned back to her in dismay. 

"It's late," she stated. "Jess, you need to get to bed." Jess stared to protest. "No," her mom said immediately. "Upstairs. Honey, go with her," she said to her husband. The two of them disappeared up the stairs. "Sam, darling, you are always welcome at our house, but i'm sure Ellen will be wondering where you are." Sam doubted that. "Would you like me to walk you back?" 

"No thank you, Mrs. Moore," Sam said politely. "Thank you for letting me use your TV."

There it was. That sympathetic look. Sam walked out before she could say anything else. He slowly meandered towards the Roadhouse. His dog was the only one who never looked sorry for him. He ruffled his fur as they walked. The Moores didn't really know Dean. They had seen him pick Sam up and knew he was wildly protective of him. But since Dean had dropped out of school that was all anybody really knew about him. And now he'd be that kid from the Games. He sighed. He knew that whatever Dean was doing in these Games were because he had to, and that he'd try and forget it all later. He honestly just wanted his older brother back.   
Suddenly, he smelled smoke. He saw it rising into the sky. There was no fire though. His heartbeat quickened and he started running. Zigzagging in between houses and stored toward the Roadhouse. He stopped short, pushing through a group of people. Where the roadhouse should have been there was just a pile of blackened rubble. He scanned frantically through the crowd for Ellen and Ash. They had to be there. He felt a hand on his shoulder. Hoping it was them, he spun around. But it wasn't. He recognized the guy as a regular at the bar. 

"Ellen?" Sam managed. 

The guy shook his head. 

"Ash?"

Another shake. 

"They're gone," Sam whispered.   
He collapsed onto his knees. His dog nuzzled up against him, sensing his despair.   
What would he do now?  
~~~

Cas racked his brain for something, anything to do to help Dean. He already felt like a failure. He had just let his friends die and watched, not helping, as Dean was tortured for days. He needed to do something. If Dean didn't get some sort of medical attention he was going to die. There wasn't enough money to send him something else, so he scratched that. He moved on to other tributes. Cas glanced over the list of who else was still alive. Maybe he could find someone to help him. 

Crowley? No. 

Abaddon? No. 

Meg? Probably not. 

Benny? Yes, but he's on the opposite side of the arena. 

Who's close?

Dick? No. 

Charlie? Hmm. That might work. Now if he could just find a way to get her over there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Give you a bit of a Sam pov here 'cause I feel like I've been leaving him out. 
> 
> I try to incorporate aspects of all character and plot archs, and I hope it's been working. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all of your comments and for continuing to read!


	10. Narrowing it Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Charlie, who's left?"
> 
> "Well, you, me, Dick, uh, Crowley, Meg, Abaddon, uh, i think that's it. Wait, no, that Benny kid is somewhere here too."

Dean's eyes snapped open. Someone's hand was on his shoulder. He thrashed wildly trying to get it off. 

"Woah, woah!" a girl's voice cautioned. "Dean. Calm down. Itms me. It's Charlie."

His breathing slowed. Charlie. Star Wars girl. Suddenly he realized how much pain he was in. He cringed and squeezed his eyes closed. Too quickly his strength was gone and he stopped moving too much. 

"Dean?" Charlie sounded worried. She checked his pulse and sighed with relief when she found that he still had one. "You're burning up." She told him, laying her hand on his forehead. She bit her lip. "I have some herbs or something back at the base. I'll be right back. I... I'm sorry." She got up. "Don't...die." 

Then, she ran off.   
Dean struggled to keep his eyes open. At first, he wanted to keep conscious. Then there was another wave of pain and he let his eyes close.   
When he woke up again he felt considerably better. His pain had dulled and he felt less achey. As his vision cleared, he could see Charlie sharpening a knife, sitting against the tree next to him. Her long hair had been cut short and spiky. It still suited her somehow. Dean shifted and tried to sit up, but he stopped almost immediately, groaning. Charlie jumped at the sound of his voice. When she saw him looking at her, she grinned. 

"Hey you're alive," she chirped softly. 

"Are you sure?" He grimaced. 

Charlie stabbed her knife into the ground and came over next to him. "I managed to sneak some stuff out from where we've set up camp. It's healing you up pretty quick,"

"How," Dean shifted his weight, "how did you find me?"

"It was weird," Charlie marveled. "I was gathering some food and stuff when this apple fell out of a tree. I reached down to grab it and it rolled out of my hand. After the third or fourth time of this happening, i figured it was probably some sort of trap, so i stopped and started to go back. That's when i heard someone groaning. I followed the noise and sha-bing sha-bang, there you were,"

"That is weird," Dean agreed, thinking of Cas and smiling. Then he remembered something she'd said. "Charlie?" Dean asked. "How many days has it been since we got here?"

"Five," she said, counting them off on her fingers. "Feels like longer, don't it?"

"That's insane," Dean marveled. It had felt like longer. "Who did you set up camp with?" 

"Oh yeah," Charlie sighed. "I've been working with Dick."   
Dean started to protest and Charlie interrupted him. "I know, i know. He's crazy. But it works. I strategize, he fights people off. It's just survival. I mean, no one's safe, really," she continued. "Just yesterday the little girl from one AND the guy from three died in the same night, about the same time too, based on the canons. Someone in here is stronger than we knew. Anyhow, how'd you end up like this?" She just sort of kept talking. This was the first time she'd paused for a breath. 

"Well," Dean said with a slight grin, "you may remember when the girl from one and the guy from three died?"

"That wasn't-"

"...yeah,"

"You didn't-"

"I did,"

"Dean!"

"It didn't go too well," he said flexing his shoulder. 

"No kidding!" she gasped. "Dean, that wasn't smart,"

"It wasn't originally my idea,"

"Wow that sucks, my dude,"

"Charlie, who's left?"

"Well, you, me, Dick, uh, Crowley, Meg, Abaddon, uh, i think that's it. Wait, no, that Benny kid is somewhere here too."

Dean sighed. Maybe he'd get to see Benny again. 

"I'm sorry, but i really need to get back," Charlie said. "Dick is gonna wonder where i've-"

"It's fine," Dean promised. "I'm not going anywhere."

She smiled sadly before rushing off.   
Charlie came back a couple of hours later. By the time she was done, he was able to stand and walk on his own. 

"Do you like being allies with Dick?" he asked her suddenly, and idea popping into his mind. Charlie had told him how anxious she was to get back quickly. 

"Oh, um," she seemed taken aback by the question. "Not really," Charlie admitted. "The dude creeps me out." Then she saw the look on his face. "No. No. Dean, you are still injured, you can't take on someone like-"

"Thanks for your help, Charlie," Dean said, clutching the tree to get to his feet. 

"Dean, you need to-"

"I'll see you soon," he promised. 

"Dean-"

"It's fine, Charlie, really. I don't want you to get in trouble. I can take it from here." He smiled and put his hand on her shoulder. "Stay safe." 

Then he winked and walked cautiously into the woods. Charlie watched him leave for a moment before going back. From a decent distance, he followed her. This Dick, pun totally intended, was the next on his list. He didn't have a weapon, but he'd fix that problem later. After that...he didn't know what he would do. Maybe ally with Charlie for a bit, but the last time he'd allied with someone, both of them had died. Charlie reached her camp, but Dick was already there. 

"Where were you, Charlie?" he asked. 

"Oh, i was just...gathering supplies," she said almost uncertainly. 

"Really? What supplies?"

"Uh..."

"Trying to make up for the ones you've been stealing?"

She began to sweat. "I haven't-"

"Don't lie to me! I'm not stupid!" he yelled. "What do you need so many herbs for anyhow?" He began advancing towards her and she backed up. "You're not helping other tributes behind my back are you?"

"Dick, i wouldn't-"

"You're lying to me Charlie," he crooned. "You know i don't like liars. It would almost be easier for me to just get rid of you now." 

He reached for a long knife on his belt. She screeched and kicked him in the groin. Dick groaned and doubled over. Charlie started to run.   
Dean looked around frantically. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a sharp bone sticking out of the ground and grabbed it. He charged into the clearing.   
Just as he got out of the trees, Dick had thrown his knife. It was embedded in Charlie's back. She collapsed. 

"No!!" Dean yelled. 

He ran at the boy and jabbed the bone through his neck. Dick didn't stand a chance. He gasped and collapsed.   
A canon echoed across the arena. 

•••  
"Where did that bone come from?!" Raphael barked furiously. 

Cas managed a half smirk without anyone noticing. 

"At least we got two more dead tributes!" chirped an angel across the room. 

"But that blasted boy from 10 just keeps living," Raphael cursed. 

"Maybe it's not such a bad thing," Cas said cautiously. 

"How?" he snapped. 

"The audience has always liked rooting for the underdog,"

Raphael seemed to consider this. "Fine. But Metatron is not going to like it if this arrogant son of a bitch is our victor."  
•••

Dean didn't even pause to take a breath. He bolted over to Charlie's side. Her face was pale, her abdomen soaked in blood. The edge of the blade was sticking out her front. He lifted her partially off the ground, cradling her body in his arms. 

"Nononono" he panted. "Don't do this Charlie. Don't you dare."

She coughed, spraying blood on his face. "Get back to your brother," she managed hoarsely. 

A canon sounded. 

Dean stood up and shouted angry curses at nothing, hoping they'd take the cameras off him for one damn second. Tears were in his eyes. He fell to his knees next to her and pressed his lips on her forehead. 

"Thank you so much," he whispered. 

He got up and started to leave, but then noticed their camp. He still had the bone in his hand. Maybe he'd keep it. Not to mention, the two of them had gathered a hell of a lot of supplies. Seemed an awful waste to leave it there for some demon to find it.   
He found another jacket that he stuff full of food and weapons before he ran back into the trees.   
He had no idea what to do. He thought about the tributes still alive; Crowley, Abaddon, Meg, himself, Benny. Were they the only five? It seemed so. 60% of the remaining tributes were demons. Naturally. Suddenly a scream pierced the air. It sounded close. Dean bolted toward the sound. It was a girl's voice. Meg's. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her amidst the trees. She and Crowley. He stopped. Dean did not want to get tangled up in this. She and him were fighting, knife on knife. Her hair was matted with blood. It was obvious that she was out of breath. With a desperate gasp she jabbed her knife into his shoulder. He winced, but pulled it out, shaking his head he dropped the knife on the ground. 

"Take this, you backstabbing whore," he said to her before shoving his knife into her stomach. 

Meg blanched, the color quickly leaving her face as she collapsed. 

The canon boomed. 

Crowley nonchalantly wiped his blade off on his pants and began wrapping his shoulder. Dean didn't move. He hadn't particularly liked Meg, but she had helped him escape. That had counted for something. And he wasn't too sure that he wanted to take on Crowley at this moment in time. And yet, he wasn't really-

"Well, Squirrel are you just going to stand behind that tree all day?" Crowley called, interrupting his thoughts. He jumped. 

"Yeah, i was planning on it," he called back when he regained his composure. "It's nice back here. Where's Ab?"

"That redheaded bitch was not someone i had wanted to team up with in the first place," Crowley responded. "I have no idea. Dropped her after you graciously murdered those two stuck up meat-suits,"

"My pleasure," Dean assured him, but he felt sick. This kid was good.

They were both quiet. 

"Now now," he cooed through the silence. "Are you really going to make me come over there? Or is it just that you can't move? Alistair did slice you up pretty bad back there." No response. "Oh come off it!" Crowley stormed over to where he had seen Dean before, but he was no where to be found. 

•••  
"Well, that was depressingly anti-climactic," Raphael fumed.   
"All do respect, sir," Cas pondered, "but ten minutes ago we had seven tributes. Now we only have four. If we had let another be killed, it could have been too much for the viewers. Too much action, too many of their idols lost at once."

Raphael seemed to consider it. "You bring up a good point, Castiel. Maybe it was alright for now." He turned to the plethora of angels. "However we need these games over soon. We have a powerful One, a terrifying Two, an Eight who we have barely seen and that arrogant Ten. Who do we want to win?"

Cas knew of course who he wanted to win, but he wasn't about to say it so bluntly. He knew also, that no one else was going to say Dean. 

"What if we just let the Games play out?" he asked. "Not try to twist it in anyone's favor,"

"Then how do you propose we wrap this up?" Raphael snapped. 

"Tomorrow," Cas was already regretting this, "we have a feast. We only leave the items down there for fifteen minutes, so they all have to be there at the same time. That should get at least one player off the board,"

"I like the way you think, kid,"  
Raphael said after a moment of consideration. "A feast it is."


	11. The Victor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You just killed Crowley," Benny reminded him gravely. "We're the only two left."
> 
> A silence hung in the air. 
> 
> "Shit."

The night was fairly uneventful. Dean had climbed into a tree and had a good view of a good 50 yard radius around him. He had too much time to think. As he didn't move, he felt the pain creeping back up through his body. He was so sore. By the time he fell asleep, he was almost begging for unconsciousness to over take him.   
He woke up to the Capitol fanfare. It blared in his ears. 

"Tributes!" Raphael's deep voice echoed through the arena. "Good news: a feast has been prepared for you all. Each of you have something that you need." His ears perked up. "In precisely ten minutes the feast will begin. Be there on time, or you will miss it. Your packages will only be available for fifteen minutes. May the odds be ever in your favor!" 

Fifteen minutes?! What were they thinking?! No. Wait. He knew exactly what they were thinking. They were trying to speed things up. He started to move and groaned. This is going to be bad. He knew it would be something to help him with the pain, but he didn't know how he was going to get there.   
Walking slowly, as it happened. By the time he got there, the items had already been out for seven or eight minutes, and Crowley's was gone. Of course. Dean glanced around. He didn't see anyone, but that of course did not mean there wasn't anyone there. But, he figured, no matter when he went out, someone would jump him, so it was best to get going asap. He limped through the tall trees towards the cornucopia. He made it about forty feet before she pounced on him.   
Abaddon. The redhead jabbed a knife into his arm and pinned him on the floor. 

"I've been waiting for this moment," she told him, smiling viciously, slamming her fist into his cheek. Dean spat blood onto the dirt, barely able to breathe between her punches. He didn't have the strength to even try to get her off. There were large bruises forming on his face, turning it a horrible shade of red-purple. She laughed horribly. 

"Hey, darlin', that's not very nice," a soft voice said. 

Abaddon was pulled roughly off of him and thrown to the ground. 

Benny. 

While she and he were engaged, Dean scrambled stiffly to his feet, searching his pockets for something useful. His hands swept over something smooth and hard. The bone. He smiled.   
Coming up behind her, Dean grabbed Abaddon's shoulder, spun her around and stabbed the bone into her stomach. She gasped in pain and stared at him, eyes wide. 

"Yeah, maybe we should have met up sooner," Dean agreed. 

She fell to the forest floor.   
A canon boomed. 

"Damn, brother,"

"Benny." Dean wrapped his friend in a tight hug. "I'm so glad you're alive,"

"Right back at'cha." Benny grinned. "Though you look like hell,"

"Just got back." Dean shrugged. "You don't look too good yourself,"

"What do you mean?" Benny asked, wounded. "I always look stunning,"

"Yeah, well, we should take our things and get out of here," Dean said, heading towards the cornucopia. 

"We?"

"There's only three of us. If we want to make sure that demon sonofabitch Crowley doesn't win..."

"I hear ya, brother." Benny nodded. "Truce it is."

The two of them shook hands and grabbed their backpacks. Dean pulled out a bottle of some sort of cream. 

"That for your face?" Benny asked. 

"Yeah and the rest of me." Dean nodded, pouring some on his hands. He rubbed it onto his cheeks and sighed happily. "You can say what you will about them angels, they've got this healing thing down." He glanced at Benny. "What'd you get?"

Benny pulled put a double-headed ax. He grinned. "I been muttering to myself 'bout how much i wanted a nice axe for days now,"

"Nice." Dean smiled. 

"So how do we track down this Crowley guy?" Benny asked. 

"I think he'll find us," Dean said. "He's hell-bent on winning, no pun intended. If we stand between him and victory, he'll be here," 

"And what do we do then?"

"Don't let him leave,"

"You know, you can be one scary sonofabitch," Benny whistled. 

"I'll take that as a compliment." Dean winked. "In the meantime, i don't suppose you've got any good food? All i have is dried fruit and a couple crackers,"

"I thought you'd never ask." 

Benny reached into his backpack and pulled out a large canister, the ones you get from sponsors. Inside, there was a steak. An honest-to-god steak with potatoes. Dean almost cried. 

"Are you serious?" he exclaimed. "How did you get that?!" 

"Not to brag or anything, but i have really amazing sponsors,"

"No kidding." Dean was in awe. "Steak," he breathed. 

The two of them split the last of it, having more than enough for both of them. They joked and laughed, not thinking about Crowley, not caring how much noise they made. Dean hadn't smiled that much in a week.   
Unfortunately though, he was right. For all Crowley's smarts, he wanted to win. He couldn't resist the only two remaining tributes in the same place. So he came. And come he did. 

One moment they were just talking, eating, having a fine time, the next Benny had a knife sticking out of his shoulder. He must have heard something because he'd leaned to the side at the last minute, which, from the trajectory, caused the blade to go in his shoulder rather than directly into his heart. He howled. Dean jumped to his feet, grabbing on of Benny's assorted knives and standing in a defensive position, pulling his friend close to him. He and Crowley stared at each other, him angry and on alert, Crowley seemingly casual and at ease. But Dean could sense his fury. His eyes would have been glowing red if they'd had the chance. 

"Thanks for gutting that redheaded bitch for me," Crowley said. "I don't know if i would have been able to do it myself," 

"I didn't do it for you," Dean growled. "And now you've hurt my friend,"

"I made both our lives easier," he argued. "Now we both know you have no chance."

Dean roared and charged at the demon, knife raised. Crowley could scarcely defend himself against the ferocity of his attack. He was able to hold up a surprisingly long amount of time, given his opponent's demeanor, but when Dean's instincts kicked in, he knew he was done for. Crowley switched to a more defensive stance, and Dean could sense him trying to figure out how to escape the confrontation. 

"Oh no you don't," Dean growled. 

He grabbed the demon's shoulder as he tried to turn, and forced him to the ground. Crowley yelped as his back hit the dirt, his weapon slipping from his fingers. Dean held his knife against the boy's neck.   
"Wait, wait, wait," Crowley scrambled frantically. "Think this through,"  
"Oh, i have," Dean pressed the blade harder into his skin. Beads of blood were starting to appear. 

"What about your, brother, your little brother, think about him." Dean froze. "What will he think if he sees you murdering me in cold blood, without a weapon in my hand?"

"Hopefully, when i have the chance to ask him," Dean said thoughtfully, "he'll be happy I'm back home."

A canon sounded across the nearly empty arena. 

Dean fell back wearily, wiping blood off of his face. He moved over next to Benny. "You gonna make it, brother?"

"Probably not," he groaned, trying to sit up, "but i doubt it's gonna have anything to do with this toothpick in my shoulder,"

"What do you mean?" Dean asked nervously. 

"You just killed Crowley," Benny reminded him gravely. "We're the only two left."

A silence hung in the air. 

"Shit."

•••  
Raphael laughed uproariously. More than half of the Gamemakers joined him. Cas did not. 

"Oh, yes, this. This is good," he laughed, immensely satisfied. "Two friends, and only one of them can leave. I didn't want the boy from 10 to live, but this is too perfect."

Cas wanted to throw up. There was nothing he could do. They wouldn't let them both live. This was good enough for Raph, he probably wouldn't even give them a big, life-threatening finale. One of them was going to have to kill the other.   
Shit, indeed.   
•••

"Congratulations," Raphael's booming voice said over the speaker. "You are the last two tributes remaining. I, for the rest of Panem, am honored to have worked with you both. You have done well. However, as much as i admire your strength and cunning, only one of you can leave. There can only be one Victor. May the Odds be Ever on your Favor!"

"Actually, we were aware of this, thanks," Benny spat. 

"What the hell are we gonna do?"

Benny was silent for a moment. He stared despondently at the dirt beneath their feet. "I didn't want to do this to you," he said, his voice soft.   
"...do what?" Dean asked nervously, taking a step away from his friend. 

"They want a big showdown. They want a friend-on-friend fight, to show how futile friendships and alliances are, make a point,"

"Yeah, i know,"

"What if we don't give it to them?"

"What?" Dean gasped. "How the hell would we do that? They won't let us both out of here. You know that. Not after Katniss." 

Dean was mad, and at this point, just saying her name out of spite. He knew the Gamemakers wouldn't like it, but they were the only ones in the arena. There was nothing they could cut away to. 

"You're right," Benny said, still staring at the ground. Slowly, he looked up, staring Dean in the eyes. "You have to get back to your brother."

Dean's jaw dropped. It took him a moment, but he realized what Benny meant. 

"Benny, i can't-"

"Yes. You can. You have to,"

"What about-"

"What about what? My family? They're dead. All of them. My friends? Yeah, no. None of the other eights like me. I'm not exactly "monster material" as you'd put it,"

"Why did you volunteer, Benny?" Dean asked quietly. It had been bothering him since they'd met. If he didn't have any friends...

Benny moistened his lips frustratedly, trying to come up with the right words. "Dammit, Dean. I don't belong there. I don't fit in in 8. I certainly don't belong here. You're the only friend I've got. If the last thing i do on this damn planet is get you back to your brother, then, by god, i will have done right by me."

Dean stared at him for a minute before looking at the ground. "I don't think i can kill you, brother,"

"Like i said, i didn't want to do this to you."

Dean took a deep breath and swallowed. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes,"

"How do you want to go?" he asked with difficulty. 

"I've always wondered what it would feel like to get my head cut off. Do you think I'll sustain consciousness for three seconds after?" he asked, voice shaking, but still attempting a joke. He handed Dean his axe. 

"God, Benny," he sighed. 

"For your little bro."

Dean nodded sadly. 

"Goodbye, brother." A tear rolled down his cheek. 

"See you on the other side," he choked. 

He swung the axe. 

The canon sounded. 

The axe fell from his hands and Dean sunk to his knees. He was crying. He didn't care they the entire country was watching. Not anymore. 

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Raphael's voice booms around the arena, "i am...pleased to announce the victor of the 76th Hunger Games: Dean Winchester!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go.   
> I've still got about two chapters left, so hang tight.   
> Hope you enjoy


	12. Post Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How did you do it?" he asked. "Katniss had Peeta. You were alone. I'm alone. How do i sit on that stage and answer questions and watch the whole damn games again like nothing happened?"
> 
> "Just focus on Sam. Don't think of the games. Think of what you've got. And that's something to go back for."

The next couple of days passed in a blur. He was picked up on one of their fancy jets where they immediately got to work "fixing" him. They offered to give him some additional cosmetic surgeries, but he declined. 

"I'm pretty enough as is," he'd told them. 

Once he was healed, they leg him back into his room. Bobby was waiting for him. So was Gabriel. And Balthazar. But not Jo. She's never be waiting for him again. It was so empty without her bubbly personality lighting up the room. He cried again when he hugged Bobby. 

"I want to go home," he whispered.

"I know, boy," he sympathized. "Just a few more days,"

"How did you do it?" he asked. "Katniss had Peeta. You were alone. I'm alone. How do i sit on that stage and answer questions and watch the whole damn games again like nothing happened?"

"Just focus on Sam. Don't think of the games. Think of what you've got. And that's something to go back for."

That night, he was out on the balcony. It was nice to be able to sit in the dark, with the breeze, and not worry about who might be lurking.   
That didn't stop him from jumping ten feet in the air when someone said his name. 

"Dean,"

"Jesus, Cas, don't do that. Not now,"

"Sorry." He stood awkwardly behind him, seeming unsure if he should move or not. 

"Are you going to stand there all night or what?" Dean sighed. 

Cas moved next to him. "I'm glad you're alive,"

"Am i? It doesn't really feel like it,"

"I understand,"

"I really don't think you do,"

"Everything that happened to you, Dean, i felt responsible. I feel so guilty. I wish i could have done more,"

"I'm sure you do," Dean nodded. "And hey, thanks for what you did do,"

"Is it bad if i say i didn't do it for you?" he asked with a sly smile.

"Is that so?" Dean asked. "Who'd you do it for then?"

"Myself," Cas said simply. "I didn't want to never hear your voice say my name or not see those crystal green eyes again. I guess I'm just selfish like that."   
The two boys smiled. "I truly am sorry," he continued on a more serious note. "For everything,"

"Thanks, Cas. I'm really tired. I'm gonna hit the hay,"

"Why would you hit hay? What hay?"

"It's an expression, Cas," Dean laughed. "It means I'm going to sleep. G'night,"

"Oh. Goodnight, Dean."

Then next morning he met with Balthazar to choose his outfit for the last big event before he got to go home. It was a suit, just a nice suit, with a sleek black tie and pointed shoes.   
Dean was terrified. Much more so than the first time he'd met with Caesar. He wasn't really sure why. He had nothing to hide, nothing to prove. No secrets the Capitol just couldn't know. But just the thought of going out there and sitting on that chair for hours made him shake.   
He stood backstage next to Bobby as Caesar made the long introduction, telling all of Panem what they were about to see, thanking them for tuning in. As if they didn't already know what it was. As if it wasn't mandatory for everyone to watch this. Then he called Dean's name and all they played a track of clapping. They were in a studio, no audience present. Just loads of camera guys. He walked, almost robotically, not thinking about it, out onto the stage and sat on the chair. Caesar gave the camera winning smile before he turned to him and started the interview. 

"Dean." He smiled. "Dean, Dean, Dean. You've been so brave this past week, so strong. I believe i speak for the entire country when i say we were all rooting for you,"

"Well, thank you very much, Caesar," Dean said, smiling through gritted teeth. 

"I must say, we were all quite surprised when you turned out to be such a strong player. It's been a while since we've seen a play like that. We were all fooled,"

"I'll take that as a compliment,"

"You should, my young man," Caesar laughed. "Now, i have to ask, when did you first think 'i could really win this'?"

"I always knew. From the moment i volunteered, i knew. There was no way you people were keeping me from my brother."   
Dean noticed movement from off stage. Bobby was shaking his head frantically, making a "stop" motion across his throat. "That is to say, i knew I'd get back to him," he backtracked. 

But the damage had been done. He heard the camera guys murmuring uncomfortably and could see the slight panic in Caesar's eyes. 

"Yes, well, I'm sure he'll be very excited to see you again," he said. 

"Yeah, he better be," Dean grumbled. 

He felt the tension ease out of the room like a breath of fresh air as Caesar laughed. Dean exhaled. He shouldn't have said that. Now that he was faced with going home, there were probably a lot of things he shouldn't have said. All those quips in the arena... the Capitol wasn't going to forget. He was going to have to pay for those, and it would be bad. 

"I'm sure he is, as are we all," Caesar said graciously. 

The interview continued for way to long, and the whole time Dean was fretting over what he was saying. He knew the games weren't over, but he was afraid he'd already messed it all up passed the point of repair. And Cas had told him Metatron was furious that he had been the one who'd won. Something was bound to be some "terrible accident" sooner or later.   
Then, came the part of the broadcast where he had to watch the games. He dreaded it, but more then that, he wanted to it be over so he could go home. See Sam.   
But first he had to watch the games. Live through them again. By himself. In front of all of Panem.   
It went worse than he expected.   
Three minutes in and he wanted nothing more than to leave. He wanted to get up and walk out of the studio and never look back. But he couldn't. He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat and tried to look anywhere but the screen. He watched Jo die again. He watched himself be tortured from angles he hadn't seen and didn't want to see. He watched Charlie die. He watched himself decapitate his best friend. He didn't know when he had started crying, but the top of his shirt was wet by the time it was over. 

"You've done so well, Dean," Caesar said comfortingly. "All of Panem is so proud of you,"

"Doubt it," Dean spat wetly before he could stop himself. 

Shit. 

He didn't hear the end of the broadcast. He didn't notice people rushing him around. He didn't even know he was back in his room until the door slammed and was locked. He'd fucked up majorly.   
Dean struggled to find his breath. They wouldn't kill him. No, that would be too public, to direct. No, it would be someone he knew, someone he loved. Dammit. He tried to calm down. He was going home in the morning. He'd see Sammy again- oh god. They wouldn't hurt Sam would they? He started to majorly panic. He jumped up from the bed and started pacing, rambling incoherently to himself. 

"Dean," a voice said. He took no notice. 

"Dean!" it said again, louder. He looked up. 

"Cas!" he gasped gratefully. "What have I done?"

The concerned look on the beautiful man's face said everything. 

"Fuck."

He collapsed to his knees, tears in his eyes, but the boy caught him, both of them sinking to the ground. Cas held the boy tight in his arms, planting kisses lightly on his head. 

"What are they going to do to me?" he whispered. 

"I don't know, honey," Cas replied. "I wish there was something I could do." 

Dean clung to the angel like he was his lifeline. "I'm leaving tomorrow. Will I ever see you again?"

Cas hesitated. He wanted to say yes, that he'd see him all the time and that it would make him the happiest man in the world, but he didn't know if he could. He wasn't sure how much the Capitol would let him do. "Whenever I can get away, I'll be with you," he decides to say. 

That seemed to calm the boy down a bit. "I'm just so scared,"

"I know you are, baby. But you can get through this. You're the strongest person I know."

The green eyes boy looked up at him. "Thanks Cas,"

"Of course, Dean." Cas couldn't stop staring at the boy's pouty lips. Dean didn't pretend not to notice. He pulled him closer and kissed him, softly but firmly. Cas could have melted right then and there. The boy was so desperate, so vulnerable. He trusted Cas, and that made him love him even more. 

"Don't leave me." 

Cas stayed with him all night. As long as he could risk, at any rate. The boy was gone when Dean woke up. He understood; he couldn't have any suspicion or anyone noticing he was gone, but he still missed him, and was now leaving. Heart still in his stomach, Dean managed to gulp down his last Capitol breakfast and walk through his new adoring fans without throwing up.   
He saved that for once the train was moving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more to go! Thanks for sticking with me this long!


	13. Epilogue

The ride back was uneventful and quiet. Have didn't speak to him. Bobby didn't say anything. Jo wasn't there. He just lay on his bed and stared blankly at his ceiling, worried out of his mind.   
The station at 10 was full. More cameras of course, but also everyone from the district. 

And Sam was right in the front.   
Dean was crying when he reached his brother, the two of them in a tight embrace. He heard the cameras flashing around them and people calling his name, but it all sounded far away. Sammy was okay. He was okay! He didn't look at or speak to anyone else all the way to their house in Victor's Village, which was officially there's. he and Sam sat on their couch, not really sure what to say. 

"How've you been, Sammy?" Dean asked awkwardly. He knew Sam knew how he'd been. 

"It's been hard," the boy admitted. "Not as hard as you had it, of course, but I've been running the house on my own for a while here and-"

"Wait, why?" Dean asked. "Why haven't you been at the Roadhouse?"

Sam shifted in his seat. "After J- you blew up those trees...I guess the Capitol didn't like that. They... the Roadhouse is gone, Dean. They burned it to the ground."

Dean stared at him in horror. "Ellen and Ash?"

Sam shook his head. "Honestly, it was just luck that I wasn't in there, too." he added quietly. 

"Oh god,"

"No one blames you-"

"Well, they should then. I as good as killed them. Just like Jo,"

"You didn't kill Jo, Dean. You didn't kill Ellen or Ash. It's the Capitol. It's all them. You know it is."

Dean sighed and nodded, but Sam knew he didn't believe it.   
"You should get to bed, Sammy. I know I should."

Sam nodded mutely and gave his brother a hug. "I missed you so much,"

"I missed you, too."

In the middle of the night, the boys woke up to a gunshot ringing through the barren neighborhood. Dean sat up faster than humanly possible. No one in 10 owned a gun. No one.   
"No," he whispered. 

Sam was in Dean's room in seconds. 

"Was that-?"

Dean nodded, terrified. 

The two boys ran out of the house. They weren't certain where the noise had come from, but it wasn't hard to guess. Only one other house in the neighborhood was occupied. 

"Please, no," Dean begged to no one in particular. 

"Dean, what's going on?" Sam asked. 

"Sammy, go home," Dean ordered. "I'll be fine, just go home and lock the doors. Wait for me."

Sam looked like he wanted to protest, but the look in Dean's eyes scared him away from it. He hesitantly did as he was told. As soon as Dean saw his brother walk back into the front door, he bolted to the other house. The door was already open, the lock broken.

"No," he moaned, pushing the door open. 

The house was silent, dark, and still. Deadly still. Dean turned in towards the kitchen and sunk to his knees. 

"Bobby." His voice broke. 

The man, his mentor, his father, was slumped over his kitchen table, a bottle of whiskey spilling into the floor, mixing with the large pool of blood dripping off of the tablecloth. There was a large whole right behind the man's ear. 

"No," he managed one more time, before he was vomiting all over the floor. 

This was his fault. He knew it was. He couldn't keep his big mouth shut, and Bobby had paid the price. 

"Bobby, I'm so sorry," he wailed, his throat raw. He sunk against the wall. What was he going to tell Sam? He knew he'd be wondering where he was if he hadn't-

"Dean?" Sam was shaking like crazy, his voice breathless. 

"I told you to stay home," Dean wiped tears from his eyes, but reached out to the little boy. 

"I'm sorry, Sammy," he said as the sobbing boy buried his head in his brother's chest. "It's just you and me now."

Honestly though, it had only really ever been him and Sam. They were going to keep living. No matter what the Capitol took from them, they wouldn't back down. They wouldn't give up. 

They would always keep fighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, that's it!!! Thanks so much for all your comments and for reading. It all means a lot to me. Hope you enjoyed it


End file.
